Black Widows: Glass Half Full
by MetalOx137
Summary: After Dr. Jane Foster is apparently abducted by aliens, Natasha Romanoff assembles a new response team to rescue her.
1. Chapter 1

It was the insistent, jangling warble of the cell phone that woke Natasha Romanoff from a sound sleep. Slowly raising her head, she squinted irritably at the device through sleep-swollen eyes. The caller ID displayed the name, 'Erik Selvig'. Pushing herself up on one elbow with a soft grunt, Natasha glanced at the bedside clock on her nightstand. The time was 4:10 AM. She picked up the phone to accept the call.

"Hello?"

Natasha's voice, normally husky at the best of times, was reduced to a sleep-softened rasp.

"Natasha? Oh, thank God. Something terrible has happened." The voice on the other end of the line belonged to Dr. Erik Selvig, his soft Norwegian tenor curiously pitched by fear and alarm. "It's Jane. She and Darcy have been taken."

"Taken?" With an effort, Natasha pushed herself upright into a sitting position, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. "What do you mean, taken?"

"The portal - it just opened. Jane and Darcy were monitoring the event horizon, and something just... grabbed them and pulled them away. Tasha, it was just like the portal opened by the Tesseract. It's one of those damn stones again. It must be."

"Erik, slow down," Natasha pleaded. "What portal? Where are you?"

"Sorry, sorry," Selvig apologized, and Natasha could almost hear the old man's brain grinding to shift gears. "We're in Geneva - a few kilometers away from the CERN facility."

"CERN? What are you doing there?"

"There's an astrophysical research laboratory nearby. Jane has been using their equipment to help map and monitor potential sites that might have a stable Einstein-Rosen bridge."

Natasha was trying desperately to kick-start her own brain into gear. Jane Foster was one of the world's leading astrophysicists, a brilliant scientist with an impressive track record of making ground-breaking discoveries. She was also, probably not coincidentally, the lover of the Asgardian God of Thunder, Thor - one of Natasha's closest colleagues.

"You're looking for wormholes," Natasha sought to clarify.

"Yes, exactly. And we were monitoring a particular site, when this... well, this _portal_ opened up right in front of us - inside the laboratory itself. It was just like the Tesseract portal, I swear it was."

"Stable wormholes? Are those even possible?" Natasha grimaced in irritation at herself; her question was completely irrelevant. "Sorry. Go on. What happened then?"

"Well, nothing - for a few moments. We were too surprised to react very quickly," Selvig admitted. "I started to calibrate the monitoring equipment, and Jane and Darcy were placing cameras and sensor probes a few feet away from the event horizon. And then - I don't know. It was almost like tendrils of smoke. Something dark, nebulous. It came out of the portal, just - just looped itself around them like ropes, and the next minute, they were gone. The portal collapsed, like it had never been there. I have no idea what to do."

Selvig's voice was pitching again, bordering on panic.

"When did this happen?"

"Five, ten minutes ago."

"Are you still at the laboratory now?"

"Yes."

"Is the equipment still on?"

"The power blew when the portal closed. I'm still trying to get everything back online."

"Any chance some of those cameras might have recorded the incident?"

"Maybe," Selvig answered uncertainly. "Natasha, I'm so sorry. I had no idea who else to call."

"It's okay, Erik," she assured him. She glanced at her bedside clock again. "Give me an hour," she calculated. "I'll make some calls. Can I reach you at this number?"

"Yes, it's my cell phone. I always carry it on my person."

"Great. Even if you can get the power restored, do not restart any of the equipment. Just collect any notes Dr. Foster might have kept, and see if you can get anything from those cameras and probes. Do whatever you can to secure the site. Keep everyone out. Padlock the doors if you have to. I'll let you know as soon as I can be there."

"Natasha - thank you."

"Talk to you soon." Natasha ended the call, sighed heavily, and with great reluctance, threw back the bedcovers and swung her feet out over the floor. Her whole body protested at the sudden movement - stiff and aching and cold.

 _I'm too young to be this damn old,_ Natasha thought irritably to herself, then pushed herself up off the bed with an effort. She shrugged herself into her favorite bathrobe, shoved her feet into a pair of down-at-heel house slippers, and slowly made her way into the kitchen. She pressed the light switch and the overhead panels blinked awake, flooding the space with warm, diffuse light.

From more muscle memory than sight, Natasha pulled down a bag of coffee grounds from one of the kitchen cabinets, and carefully poured a measured amount into the percolator. After adding water, she turned on the brewer and took down a pair of mugs from another shelf. _Never begin any mission without at least two cups of coffee_ was one of her unwritten rules, and, no matter what the crisis, she stood by it.

Natasha's penthouse apartment in midtown was, for all practical purposes, a sprawling great room of perhaps two thousand square feet, with two small bedrooms recessed in the far corners. The main living space had the kitchen at the close end, separated from the living room by a long bar counter. The living room made up most of the space in the apartment, with its two exterior walls made entirely out of glass. The view outside was a breathtaking view of the Manhattan skyline - although at this hour, Natasha could only see a few lighted windows from the closest neighboring buildings, and her own ghostly image reflected in the glass.

A soft moan could be heard from the long, low-lying couch, and a young woman's head peeked out over the back, blinking in the sudden light like a sleepy owl.

"What's going on?" the girl mumbled. "Who were you talking to?"

Natasha couldn't help grinning. The face and voice belonged to her roommate, Wanda Maximoff. Wanda was a Sokovian refugee who, in happier times, had worked alongside Natasha in the response team known as the Avengers. Wanda was ten years younger than Natasha, and during the relatively short time they'd known each other, they had developed a genuine big sister / little sister relationship between them. Three months ago, after returning to New York - returning to Earth? Returning to reality? Natasha barely knew how to make such distinctions any longer - the two women had moved in together. Wanda hadn't asked, and Natasha hadn't protested. After all that had happened, they simply felt an instinctual need to be physically close to one another. Although New York and its boroughs were technically still home to several million people, with over half its residents abruptly and horrifically snuffed out of existence, the city felt unnaturally quiet and empty. There had been many nights in the last few weeks where the two women had simply sat together in silence on the couch, staring out at the skyline, trying to make sense of what had happened to the world - and to themselves.

"Wanda, did you fall asleep on the couch again?" Natasha asked in exasperation.

"Yeah, I did, so?"

"So, you have a bedroom of your own, you know."

"I couldn't sleep," Wanda protested, trying to smooth back her tousled, dark red hair, which was sticking up everywhere like an unkempt lion's mane.

"Well, you seem to have no trouble sleeping out here."

"Who were you talking to?" Wanda repeated her question.

"That was Erik Selvig. There's been... an incident."

"What kind of incident?" Wanda asked with trepidation, pushing herself up off the couch, her blouse and slacks as hopelessly rumpled as her hair.

"Jane Foster is missing. And from what Erik described, she may have been abducted."

"You mean kidnapped? Can't the police handle that sort of thing?"

"Abducted by an unknown alien force that manifested itself through an artificially generated wormhole."

"Oh." Wanda's face fell. She stumbled into the kitchen area, still half asleep, and settled herself on one of the barstools. Natasha poured out a cup of coffee and passed it over to Wanda. The younger woman took the mug gratefully. After a long sip, she seemed to be more awake.

"What can we do about it?"

"I don't know," Natasha admitted with a heavy sigh.

Wanda gave her friend a knowing grin. "I mean, what _are_ we going to do about it."

"Wanda, there's no need for you to get involved in this."

"Don't be stupid. Wherever you're going, I'm going with you. You know that."

Natasha gave Wanda a grateful smile before taking another long sip from her own coffee cup.

"In that case, do me a favor. Give Sam Wilson a call. His number's still in my Rolodex."

"What should I tell him?"

"Ask him if he's up for a search and rescue mission."

"He's still in D.C.?"

"As far as I know, he is."

"What are you going to do?"

"Pay Pepper Stark a visit."

"What, right now? It's the middle of the night."

"Yes, right now. If Dr. Foster really has been abducted, then every minute counts," Natasha pointed out. "Besides, Pepper's used to being rolled out of bed at all sorts of hours for emergencies. She'll forgive me. I hope."

She glanced up at the kitchen clock, unused to having to make note of time. 4:20 AM. "I need to go," she sighed, putting down her coffee mug. "I'll meet you back here in..." She did another quick calculation. "Forty minutes."

Wanda nodded. "Is there anyone else you want me to call?"

Natasha snorted with derision, albeit sadly. "Is there anyone else left to call?" She immediately regretted the retort, it seemed far meaner and harsher than she intended. "Just be ready to head out when I get back."

Wanda bobbed her head solemnly, and Natasha retreated to her own room to throw on some clothes. She entered her bathroom and stared in disgust at her own reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy with sleep, and her own red hair, while shorter and lighter in shade than Wanda's, still managed to be just as unruly - it was sticking up everywhere, in the most unflattering of ways.

"I look like I stuck my finger in a damn light socket," Natasha grumbled to herself, brushing irritably at her recalcitrant tresses, and after a moment, giving up in despair. There was barely time to pass a hot wash towel across her face, let alone attend to any other aspect of her toilet. She'd have a spectacular case of helmet hair in half an hour, anyway.

As she ran water in the sink until it heated, she stared sullenly at her reflection, barely recognizing the woman staring back at her. _Is this all on me now?_ she wondered sadly. Natasha made a quick mental inventory, the same exhausting one she'd made every day for longer than she could remember. Tony Stark was still alive, but that was all that could be said of him. Thor Odinson and Bruce Banner were missing and presumed dead. Steve Rogers, King T'Challa and Clint Barton were - Natasha could still barely acknowledge this - nothing but memories. Anyone else who had worked with the Avengers, as far as Natasha knew, was gone. Not just dead. Blinked out of existence, as if they'd never been. Natasha shuddered involuntarily. What a terrible way to cease to be. She had seldom felt so utterly alone, or so wholly inadequate to the task of the saving anyone, let alone the world. She'd tried once before, and failed - and that was when she had all the help in the universe at her beck and call. She could call Nick Fury, she realized belatedly. He wouldn't be able to help her, but she would call him, anyway.

By the time Natasha made it to the parking garage - hastily dressed in boots, dark slacks, t-shirt and leather jacket, motorcycle helmet under one arm - it was just after 4:35 AM. As she roared out onto the empty, deserted street, it was almost exactly one hour before the sunrise.


	2. Chapter 2

The Stark Tower stood, as nearly all New York City skyscrapers now did, mostly dark and mostly tenantless. As Natasha approached the building on her motorcycle, she noted sadly that only a handful of lights could be seen - the penthouse at the very top, the ground floor and the first floor above that, and one or two lights scattered about for service lifts and stairwells. Otherwise, the tower was like all its neighbors: a dark, silent, foreboding monolith. Only a few months earlier, every one of these corporate structures would have been lit, top to bottom, like a Christmas tree. But now, even in the middle of downtown, it was possible to look up from street level and see stars in the night sky - for possibly the first time in nearly a century.

Stark Tower was, of course, hardly empty; the Stark Foundation still made its headquarters here. And even though the Avengers were long gone - they had moved out to an upstate facility, months before the world as everyone knew it had ended - the tower still housed some of the world's most robust R&D laboratories. But like every corporation, every government, every municipality around the globe, it now operated in severely reduced circumstances.

As Natasha pulled into the front entrance and removed her helmet, a security guard was there to greet her with a formal and carefully rehearsed smile.

"Good morning, Miss Romanoff. Please feel free to leave your vehicle here, we'll secure it for you." The guard offered Natasha a gate key, something that looked like an old-style thumb drive for a desktop computer. "This gives you access to the private lift, just over there. It will take you straight to the penthouse. Mrs. Stark is expecting you."

"Thank you," Natasha nodded politely. She dismounted the bike, and left it - along with her helmet - with the attendant. She stepped over to the lift doors and sighed heavily. She suddenly realized, with deep resentment, that she did not want to be here. She desperately wanted to be at home, in her own bed, warm and safe and fast asleep, preferably with Bruce snoring gently beside her. Let the world spin on however it would. Instead, she was shivering in the chilly pre-dawn air, trying to formulate a rescue plan for a situation about which she had next to no information. She had never realized it before, but until now, she'd had a great luxury to leave all this sort of heavy lifting to her more famous colleagues. All she had to do was make herself useful and carry her own weight in a fight. Which she had done, very well, many times. She was hardly a tag-along. But now she began to wonder about the stress that someone like a Steve Rogers or a Tony Stark must have felt - the pressure to actually lead the mission, to be personally responsible for a successful outcome. It was a daunting prospect. Natasha was not given to prayer, but she found herself praying - wishing, really - that she would be up to the task.

A soft, muted chime signaled the arrival of the elevator car, and as the doors slid open, Natasha could only snort in bemusement. This was no primitive cage of glass and metal. The entire car was easily as wide as any normal person's idea of a living room, with inlaid wood paneling, deep piled carpet, two finely upholstered love seats, a set of end tables on which rested bouquets of freshly-cut flowers in crystal vases, and a service table, with a pitcher filled with ice water and lemon wedges, along with several drinking glasses. A framed painting hung on the back wall, and while Natasha was no art critic, she safely assumed that the piece was a priceless masterpiece by some famous painter. The furniture was all antique cherrywood that had been recently polished with lemon and beeswax. Natasha uttered a mild obscenity under her breath, then settled herself into one of the love seats and made herself comfortable. The doors closed, and the car rose swiftly and silently upwards. Natasha could sense no motion, but her popping ears informed her that she was ascending quite rapidly. After only a few moments, the car shuddered slightly - signaling a stop - and the doors whisked open. Natasha rose from her seat and stepped out into the room beyond. This space, at least, she recognized: originally Tony Stark's office, then briefly the Avengers' conference room, and now, apparently, the living room of the Starks' private suite. And standing in front of Natasha was Pepper Stark herself, her long blonde hair tied back in a tight ponytail, dressed casually in an untucked white blouse and dark slacks, a somber but welcoming smile on her face. She looked, Natasha noted sadly, like someone who had been rudely awakened from a sound sleep.

"Natasha." Pepper pulled her close and hugged her tightly. Natasha hugged the taller woman willingly, her eyes smarting with unwelcome tears.

When they released each other, Pepper still clasped Natasha's hands for a moment longer before finally letting go. "Thanks for calling me en route. Gave me a chance to throw on some clothes, at least."

"Thanks for getting up to meet me," Natasha answered. "You know, your elevator is nicer than my whole damn apartment."

Pepper managed a soft chuckle, but it was obvious she was forcing it. Her heart was too heavy for real laughter. "You can live in it, if you want to."

"Don't tempt me. How's my helmet hair? Is it bad?"

Pepper regarded her friend critically. "I've seen worse," she assured her.

"Really?"

"Natasha, it's not even five in the morning, and we've known each other way too long to ding ourselves on style points. Can I get you anything? Water, juice, coffee, anything?"

"I had my two sips of caffeine back at my apartment, I'm good, thanks."

"So, you need toys."

"I do," Natasha admitted ruefully. "Lots of them. Anything you can spare."

"Well, I have no quinjets left, but, if it's getaway vehicles you're after, I have just the ticket. If I can ask, what's the rumpus?"

Natasha balked for a moment before answering; Pepper's choice of phrase was so much like something Tony would say. Then again, Tony and Pepper were a long-term couple; it was only to be expected each would pick up some of the other's mannerisms eventually.

"Do you know Jane Foster?"

"I've not met her in person. But I've heard of her. Thor's girlfriend, right?"

"Yeah. And one of the most brilliant astrophysicists on earth."

"She's in trouble?"

"Would you believe, abducted by aliens?"

 _"Seriously?"_ Pepper groaned wearily. "God. I _hate_ that."

"Yeah, well, you and me both."

Pepper turned away and motioned for Natasha to follow. They walked across the expansive living room towards another service lift.

"How many people are you planning to outfit?" Pepper asked.

"Four, maybe five. Including me."

Pepper appeared to be mulling that over as they stepped into the cage. Natasha noted this elevator looked far more like a "normal" car, but she bit her tongue to keep from commenting aloud.

"I could probably outfit your team with our standard weapon gauntlets," Pepper mused. "You can have full glove, or wristband. They use repulsor cannons, similar to the ones Tony has in his armor. Just not as powerful."

Natasha frowned in puzzlement. "Why not as powerful?"

Pepper looked askance at her visitor. "Natasha, if you wore a full-power repulsor on your arm without armor, the first time you discharged it, it would tear your arm clean off."

"Oh."

"Don't worry, they're more than powerful enough - especially if you think you're headed into a firefight."

"I don't honestly know," Natasha admitted. "But I'd rather be ready for anything. How long do they last?"

"If you're using them at full power? Without interruption? About six hours."

As Natasha digested that information, Pepper added, "Hopefully, whatever alien ass-kicking you need to do will be over long before then."

"I hope so too," Natasha could barely suppress a shudder. "So, no full suits of armor, then?"

"Nothing functional," Pepper sighed. "I think you know, Tony deep-sixed any remaining suits requiring an operator. There was another prototype that he was working on before... before..." her voice faltered and trailed off, and she had to shake her head as if to clear it. "It's still just drawing board stuff," she demurred. "The Pentagon tagged the remaining Iron Legion drones, and our last two quinjets. After what happened, I could hardly say no to them. We still have plenty of other weapons in development the government knows nothing about - weapons that will neutralize, but not kill. But nothing ready for use in the field."

Noting Natasha's puzzled frown, Pepper observed, "You seem surprised."

"I - don't know," Natasha equivocated for just a moment. "I just thought, after you took over the company, Stark Industries wasn't going to be weapons platform to the world any more."

"Oh, trust me, it's not," Pepper assured her. "Avionics, AI and medical device technology is going to be our bread and butter from now on. Poor Howard's probably howling in his grave, but we are actively divesting ourselves of all the weapons technologies as fast as we can legally and practically do so." She sighed sadly. "But Tony was right. You need to leave something in the cupboard, in case of emergencies."

"We'll take whatever you can spare," Natasha assured her. "I'm very grateful for the help."

The elevator came to a stop, and another muted chime confirmed their arrival.

"Okay," Pepper managed a smile. "Welcome to Santa's workshop."

The doors opened on a completely darkened room. Muttering a curse under her breath, Pepper pulled a small, slim remote unit from her pocket, and pointed it into the blackness.

"Sorry," she apologized. "In the good old days, this lab would be humming with people 24/7. Now, I'm lucky if I can staff technicians for a single day shift."

After a moment, the overhead floodlights came on, and Pepper and Natasha stepped out into a large, open space that clearly ran the length and breadth of the entire floor. Natasha couldn't even take in everything in any direction she looked: part chemical laboratory, part mechanical workshop, there were devices and workspaces the point of which she couldn't even begin to guess at. And far more of them than she could possibly count.

"Damn," Natasha whistled low. "You people have your hands into practically everything."

"Not quite," Pepper laughed, and this laugh sounded much more like her old self. "But we're trying. Come this way. Your ride's over here."

They walked to the far end of the lab, which resembled a mechanic's garage than anything else. Suspended on a hydraulic lift was a vehicle that looked suspiciously like a small SUV - but with a sleeker, shorter frame, and instead of wheels, an underside that curved gently inwards towards the middle, like a flat-bottomed speedboat. The craft had an attractive dark red metallic finish and racing trim. Pepper laughed again at Natasha's quizzical stare.

"Don't let her looks fool you," she cautioned. "She's small, but she's as fast as any quinjet, and banks at speeds better than any aircraft flying today."

"How do you keep from pancaking yourself?" Natasha stared at the vehicle dubiously.

"She has inertial dampeners. She can fly, she can swim, she can even put down wheels, if you want to drive her like a normal car."

"She flies?"

"She's been tested at a cruising altitude of 30,000 feet. The cabin pressurizes and depressurizes automatically."

"Where's her wings?"

"Sandy will deploy them, if you ask her."

"Sorry, did you just call this thing 'Sandy'?"

Pepper gave her friend an embarrassed smile. "Yeah. After Sandra Bullock. You know, the movie actress? 'Speed', beauty - and style points. She has a baseline AI that functions as the user interface. So you don't need to bother with a control panel that has a million knobs on it."

"And I can take her underwater?"

"Only to sixty feet," Pepper cautioned. "Sorry. Anything deeper than that, and you still need a single sleeve casing, with only one hatchway. I like her better with doors and windows."

"May I?" Natasha indicated the driver's side door.

"Be my guest."

Natasha gently pressed on the latch, and the door swung open. She ducked down and slipped inside. Again, the interior resembled nothing so much as a high-end SUV - albeit with a slightly oversized control screen in the center panel. The two passenger seats in front were bucket seats, while the rear seat was comprised of one long bench, wide enough to easily seat four people.

"She still has new car smell," Natasha breathed in deeply. "God, I love that."

Pepper grinned. "Well, you would be only the second person to take her out for a spin."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "You were first?"

"Somebody had to try it. I wasn't going to risk an engineer's life."

"Seriously. You've flown this thing. And dropped it in the ocean."

"Yeah, about that," Pepper said awkwardly. "Based on my personal user experience, while you don't actually need to be a pilot to drive her, I would _strongly_ recommend anybody sitting behind that wheel to have pilot training. It will make life a LOT easier."

"Noted." Natasha checked the view from rear and side mirrors and looked up in pleased surprise.

"There's almost no blind spots on this thing," she marveled.

"That was trickier to solve than you might think," Pepper nodded.

"I believe you." Natasha looked around the front and steering column expectantly. "Uh, so how do I turn on the ignition?"

"You ask her." Pepper leaned into the cabin. "Hey, Sandy, are you awake?"

The central screen lit up. "Good morning, Pepper," answered a female voice.

"Good morning. Please scan the current occupant in the driver's seat. Identify her as Natasha Romanoff, and list her as an authorized user."

"Scanning." There was a slight pause. "Authorized," Sandy confirmed. "Good morning, Ms. Romanoff."

"Uh, hello," Natasha answered, feeling somewhat flustered.

"What is it?" Pepper asked.

"Nothing. I was just thinking, thank God she doesn't have an Irish accent."

"I am fully capable of responding in sixteen different languages, with a variety of dialects," Sandy offered. "Would you like me to switch to Gaelic?"

"No, no," Natasha answered hastily. "The voice you have now is just fine. Great. Thanks."

"Sandy, please tell Natasha how fast you are," Pepper suggested with a mischievous grin.

"I have been confirmed in flight test at 1,045 knots, with engineering tolerances up to 1,300 knots," Sandy answered, with a hint of pride in her voice.

"That's, what, about Mach 2?" Natasha frowned, trying to do the mental calculation.

"Correct!"

"Uhh, she still has a slight shudder at anything past Mach 1.3," Pepper cautioned.

"I heard that!" Sandy said indignantly.

"Don't worry, Sandy, we'll fix that, I promise."

"And you can travel both on water surfaces and land surfaces?" Natasha directed this question to Sandy. "And underwater?"

"Correct!"

"Sandy can manage a little over 80 knots in calm water," Pepper added. "We haven't tested in her in any rough chop yet, but, her speed will naturally drop depending on the size of the waves."

"Well, I really hope I'm not taking her anywhere but Switzerland and back."

"I can switch to French, German or Romansh language modes as needed," Sandy volunteered.

Natasha managed a feeble grin. "How is she for armaments?"

Pepper shook her head. "Sorry. She's not designed as a military vehicle. She's fast and she's maneuverable, but she's transport only. No guns."

"Damn," Natasha swore softly. "Armor?"

"She has bulletproof glass, and a projectile-resistant outer hull," Pepper answered, shaking her head. "But fully armored? No. Armor means, heavy and slow. You were looking for small and fast. And Sandy is small and very fast."

Pepper leaned in and addressed the AI again. "Sandy, Natasha is going to need your services for a few days. Please follow any directions she gives you."

"Is Natasha to be designated as the primary driver?"

Pepper hesitated a moment. "Yes," she confirmed. She turned to Natasha. "I'm assuming you'll want to authorize all members of your team to drive, too?"

"Yes, I will," Natasha nodded.

"And please allow her to authorize other users besides herself."

"Confirmed," Sandy replied.

"Thanks. Uhh... what does she use for fuel?" Natasha asked.

"I utilize a combination of battery and solar power," Sandy said proudly.

"She uses no liquid fuel at all," Pepper added. "Like any device, though, the harder you make her work, the faster you'll burn through her power reserves. For example, if you're actually going to fly her to Switzerland, I'd let her recharge for a day before you take her anywhere else. And Sandy will let you know, if her reserves are running low."

"How do I recharge her?"

"If you're in bright sunlight, you don't need to do anything. She'll absorb all the energy she needs directly through her skin. That's why she has the dark red paint job. Allows her to absorb solar energy quickly and efficiently. She can also be docked at any station that recharges electric cars."

"Sounds great."

"If you like, I'll have her brought down to street level, with an assortment of repulsor gauntlets. We can even fit her with a temporary bike rack," she offered, "In case you want to take your motorcycle home with you. Or you can just leave it here, and pick it up when you get back."

"Pepper... I don't know how to thank you," Natasha murmured gratefully.

"There's no need," Pepper assured her friend. "Okay, then. Let's go over to the weapons locker. I'll outfit you with a standard gauntlet, and show you how it works."

"Actually..." Natasha hesitated for a moment. "If he's lucid, I'd really like to visit Tony. Just for a few minutes."

Pepper's eyes darkened, and she hesitated a moment before answering. Seeing her reluctance, Natasha added quickly, "If he's allowed to have visitors, and you're okay with it, that is."

"Yes. Yes, of course. You can see him. He's probably up by now. He doesn't sleep much any more."

"Who does?" Natasha agreed sympathetically.

"Natasha..." Pepper bit on her bottom lip. "There's a chance he may not recognize you."

Natasha swallowed hard. "Is he really that bad?"

Pepper shrugged helplessly. "He's just like the rest of us," she sighed at last. "He has some good days. He has a lot more days that aren't so good."

"How about, I'll look in on him, if he's not responsive or agitated, I'll leave right away."

"I just want you to be prepared. You know what he used to be like. This could be... difficult."

"Understood," Natasha nodded somberly. "Thanks."

As they walked back to the elevator, Pepper touched her wrist communicator. "Happy, it's Pepper. Can you please have a security detail bring Sandy down to the parking garage right away. Load four sets of repulsor gauntlets into her boot, too. I've given Natasha permission to leave the premises with them."

"Will do," The voice of Happy Hogan, Pepper's right hand man and personal bodyguard, crackled back over the tiny speaker. "Hey, tell the Widow I said hello."

Pepper grinned. "She's right here, and she can hear you."

"Hey, Happy," Natasha called out.

"Hey there, gorgeous, you still kicking ass?"

"Nah. These days, I'm mostly getting my ass kicked."

"Well, you need to turn _that_ around, right away," Happy answered with genuine concern.

"Working on it," Natasha agreed solemnly.

"Happy, Natasha's on mission, so hop-step it, please," Pepper interrupted gently.

"On it, boss. You take care, Tasha. Out."

Natasha sighed and gave Pepper a plaintive look. "I can't tell you how glad I am, that Happy survived all this," she said quietly.

"That makes two of us," Pepper agreed solemnly. "I could never have survived this myself, if he hadn't been an absolute rock. I've leaned on him like I've never leaned on anyone. And he just... takes care of everything. He's been incredible."

"We really need to do something wonderful and amazing for him," Natasha declared. "I just wish I knew what."

"The moment you think of something, call me. I'm all in," Pepper nodded.

"Absolutely."

"One other thing - now that Sandy can't hear us." Pepper drew Natasha aside. "Look. Wind and waves are one thing. But if you're taking her through the event horizon of a wormhole, there are no engineering tolerances for something like that. I can't predict what that will do to her. Or to you."

Natasha nodded solemnly. "But I _do_ have permission to take her?"

"If you're going to bring Jane home safely, you'll have to, won't you? Just promise me you'll come back alive. I've lost too many people already. I don't want to lose anyone else."

"I'm not planning on making this my last mission," Natasha declared. "Unless I decide to retire, that is."

"Is that in the cards?" Pepper asked in all seriousness.

"I don't know," Natasha answered truthfully. "It's certainly looking more attractive now than it did three months ago."

Pepper nodded sympathetically, drew in a deep breath and visibly straightened herself. "Okay," she declared. "You ready?"

"About as ready as I will be."

They re-entered the Stark private elevator, and in moments, returned to the penthouse. Pepper led Natasha to a side room that had a wide view of the city. Tony Stark was seated in a straight-backed chair, simply dressed in a hoodie, sweat pants and slippers, staring vacantly out at the slowly-brightening skyline.

"Tony?" Pepper approached him cautiously. "Sweetie? There's someone here to see you."

Natasha came forward, her heart suddenly pounding furiously in her chest. She knelt down next to the chair. Stark stared at her insensibly, as if he couldn't quite place her. Natasha tried to greet him in a normal tone, but couldn't quite keep her voice from breaking.

"Hey, shellhead."

Stark's vacant expression slowly changed to one of a puzzled frown.

"I... know you," he said haltingly.

"That's right."

"Natasha," Stark declared, after a moment's hesitation.

"That's me."

"You're here. You're really here." He seemed visibly pleased.

"Yeah. I am."

"You didn't die."

"No." Tears were filling Natasha's eyes now, she couldn't stop them. It was heartbreaking enough to see this man, so gifted, so driven, so full of brio and braggadocio, reduced to such a pathetic state. He wasn't Tony Stark. Not any longer. More like a faint shadow, or a blurred copy, than the real thing.

"I haven't seen you since..." his voice trailed off. "It's been a long time."

Natasha nodded tearfully. "Yes, it has."

"It's really good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Tony." Natasha could barely get the words out.

Seeing that Natasha was becoming visibly distraught, Pepper leaned in.

"Tony, sweetie, Natasha has to go to Switzerland for a few days. But when she comes back, she'd like to spend some time with us. Is that okay?"

"You're going to Switzerland?" Tony seemed puzzled. "Isn't it cold there?"

"She's visiting some friends of ours. Jane Foster. You remember Jane."

"Jane..." Stark's face lit up with sudden comprehension. "Thor's hot chick!"

"That's right. Thor's hot chick."

"You're coming back?" Stark asked Natasha plaintively.

"I'm coming back," Natasha bobbed her head solemnly. "I promise."

Huge, hot tears began spilling down her cheeks. Stark seemed appalled.

"You're crying."

"Yeah. I do that."

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm just so happy to see you."

"Please don't cry. Crying's bad."

Natasha could only agree. "Yeah. It is."

Impulsively, she leaned in and kissed Stark on the cheek.

Pepper gently settled her hand on Natasha's shoulder, and reluctantly, Natasha allowed herself to be led away. Once they were back in the main room, Pepper's wrist communicator chirruped softly. She consulted it briefly and then looked over at Natasha.

"Sandy's ready for you downstairs."

The two women got into the elevator and began the descent. Natasha squeezed her eyes shut and clamped a hand over her mouth, but the tears were coming now, and they wouldn't be stopped. Wordlessly, Pepper dug into her pocket, pulled out a travel packet of facial tissue and handed it to Natasha.

"God _damn_ it," Natasha swore angrily, unable to hold back her tears any longer. "How do you stand it?" she wailed.

"I stand it because I have to," Pepper said simply.

Natasha daubed at her eyes, momentarily holding back the flood, but she knew it was only a temporary stopgap. She tried to hand the remaining packet back to Pepper, but she only responded with a slight shake of the head.

"Keep it," she said. "I walk around with a backpack full of the stuff these days."

Natasha drew in several deep breaths to calm herself. Pepper waited patiently, and when it seemed like she could safely speak again, she added: "He's actually responding very well to the medication. Every day, I catch more and more glimpses of him. The old Tony. _My_ Tony." She paused. "It will take time, a long time, but the doctors are hopeful... we can bring him all the way back..."

Pepper's voice broke too, on that last hopeful word, and she closed her eyes, squeezing out a few heartbroken tears of her own. Natasha pulled her close, and when the elevator finally arrived on the ground floor and the doors opened, the two women stood huddled tightly together, foreheads touching, silently weeping in each other's arms.

A few minutes later, after a final exchange of tearful hugs with Pepper, Natasha allowed Happy Hogan to escort her to the parking garage. The stout bodyguard was uncharacteristically quiet as they walked side by side to Sandy's parking space. As Natasha was about to get into the car, Hogan laid a comforting hand on Natasha's shoulder.

"Look," he said quietly, "This mission... whatever it is you're doing... when you get back, we need to celebrate."

"Celebrate?" Natasha looked at the man incredulously.

"Yeah. You. Me. Tony. Pepper. We need to open a buncha bottles of wine, have a lotta toasts, and get completely hammered."

"And why would we do that?"

"Because we're all still here, and we all still have each other." Hogan gave Natasha a somber smile. "I can't think of a better reason to celebrate than that."

Despite her recent spasm of grief, a wide grin slowly spread across Natasha's face. "Yeah," she nodded her head in agreement. "Yeah. That's worth celebrating. Okay. You're right, Happy. It's a date."

"See you soon, gorgeous. You take care of yourself now."

"I always do."

Natasha opened the door, and slid down into the driver's seat, exhausted and drained.

"Hey, Sandy," she addressed the interface. "Are you ready to blow this pop stand?"

The control screen blinked itself awake to its home menu. Although there was no sound Natasha could hear to verify, she knew the engine had turned over and the motor was running.

"Ms. Romanoff, Ms. Romanoff," Sandy chirruped in great agitation. "Alarm, alarm."

"Call me Natasha, please, Sandy."

"Natasha, I am detecting unsafe elevated levels in your blood pressure, and your circulatory and respiratory systems appear to be under severe duress. Do you require medication or hospitalization?" The AI sounded frankly worried.

"I'm fine, Sandy, I promise."

"System scans indicate this is not the case."

"System scans are inaccurate," Natasha informed the car. "I'm not sick. I'm -" she paused for a long moment, carefully considering her response. "I'm grieving," she said finally.

"Grieving," the AI repeated.

"Yes."

"You are in emotional pain."

"A lot of it. Yes." Natasha paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, she was not just responding to Sandy, but speaking to herself.

"I... lost someone," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Actually, a lot of someones. People I loved, very, very much. And it all kind of... hit me just now. But... I'm going to be okay. Really. I am."

Sandy paused for a moment, apparently considering her own reply in return. "Natasha, what can I do to help you?" she asked finally.

Natasha was frankly dumbfounded by Sandy's question. The response seemed to indicate not only semantic comprehension, but genuine empathy, which truly surprised her. Then again, she reflected sadly, Jarvis and the Vision and even Friday often seemed more like human beings than real human beings.

"Sandy, do you have the confidential residence for Nick Fury on file?"

"Fury, Nicolas J," Sandy replied. "Address confirmed."

"Can you take me there, without smashing into anything, while I bawl my eyes out?"

"You wish me to assume primary driver control of the vehicle?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

The seat began to tilt back. Startled, Natasha leaned forward. "Sandy, what are you doing?"

"I am repositioning your seat and adjusting ambient cabin environment to help reduce your current levels of stress," Sandy answered. "Sit back and rest, Natasha. I will notify you when we have reached our destination." There was a pause. "Please do not feel sad. Everything is going to be ... okay."

Natasha couldn't help but smile at the ridiculousness of it - an AI attempting to comfort her. But in some strange way, she _was_ comforted. She settled back in her reclined seat, closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Sandy began to navigate her way to the front entrance of the garage. Although the sun was not yet up, the sky in the east was lightening quickly.

Natasha opened her eyes for a minute.

"Sandy?"

"Yes, Natasha?"

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Natasha. In current traffic conditions, our arrival should be in 18.3 minutes."

Natasha smiled. For the moment, her sorrow had left her, and she felt only a deep, abiding bone weariness.

"I think I've changed my mind," she decided aloud. "Instead of crying, I'm going to take a 18.3 minute nap."

"I will be happy to wake you, upon our arrival," Sandy offered.

"That'd be great. Thanks."

Natasha closed her eyes again, and even before Sandy had left the garage, her weary passenger was fast asleep. The time was ten minutes past five.


	3. Chapter 3

When Sandy pulled into the short driveway of the brownstone where Nick Fury now made his home, Natasha sat up in her seat reluctantly. She had slept soundly for perhaps all of ten minutes. But the brief power nap had done her good; she did not feel nearly so exhausted any longer, only weary.

"Natasha, we have arrived," Sandy announced, slowly adjusting Natasha's seat back into its normal upright position.

"Thanks, Sandy. Hey, can you interface with the contact list on my smart phone?"

"Already done."

"Awesome. Please make note of the address for my apartment. That's where we're headed next, as soon as I'm done here."

"Shall I notify Miss Maximoff of our estimated arrival time?"

"Uhh... just let her know we'll be on our way shortly," Natasha answered, not entirely sure how Sandy knew that she and Wanda were living together. That information wasn't reflected in the contact information on her phone. "I promised her forty minutes. I'm a little behind on that promise."

"Will do."

"And log Sam Wilson's address, too. We'll be heading to D.C., as soon as I stop off at my place."

"Do you wish to fly to D.C.?"

"Whatever way gets us there the fastest. Oh, and keep the motor running. This shouldn't take long."

"Understood."

Natasha exited the car, and walked up the concrete steps to the porch. The neighborhood was an older one, but well maintained. Natasha had never visited this residence before. Normally, Fury worked out of Washington; but while he was recuperating from his injuries, he had elected to return to his first home in New York. Natasha noticed that the interior lights were on. Hopefully that meant she would not be dragging Fury out of his bed, too. She leaned over and rang the doorbell. A small intercom speaker next to the door crackled to life.

"Come on in, Natasha. I'm in the living room. All the way in back."

Natasha smiled with relief. Nick Fury's voice. It made her feel better just hearing it. She grabbed the doorknob and gently pushed the door open.

The foyer itself was not lighted, but lights from other rooms spilled out into the hallway. It looked as any well-to-do retiree's home might: sideboard, running carpet, pegs for coats and hats, pictures of family. Everything about the space suggested reassurance. The house seemed utterly still. Natasha closed the door behind her, walked the length of the hallway and peeked around the corner of the doorframe on the far left. Nick Fury was already fully dressed in a dark turtleneck sweater, slacks and loafers, seated in a recliner at one end of a spartanly furnished living room. The fireplace was lit, adding some needed warmth to beat back the early morning chill. Natasha noted with dismay that there was a small cane resting beside Fury's chair.

"The door's never locked, Romanoff."

"Seriously? You never lock your door?" Natasha asked, coming into the room.

"I got tired of replacing deadbolts and doorframes all the time. Not worth it."

Nicolas Fury sat up a little straighter in his chair, and regarded his old friend critically. "You look like hell."

Natasha made a face. "Yeah, right back atcha, boss."

"I'm old, and I got tubes hanging outta every sacred hole in my body. What's _your_ excuse?"

Natasha settled herself into a chair across from Fury. He now looked as she never wished to see him - old, frail and almost crippled. But for the moment, she was too exhausted for fresh tears.

"How are you, Nick?"

"You didn't come all this way to ask me how I am."

"No, but I'm asking anyway."

Fury regarded Natasha for a long moment - the puffy, reddened eyes, the pale, drawn face, and a posture that suggested utter exhaustion - and decided it was better to humor her. He settled back in his chair.

"Been better," he allowed at last. "Moving around a little easier these days. Barnes may not have ended me, but he sure as hell slowed me down."

Natasha managed a quiet smile. "Living on borrowed time, huh?"

"At least three times in the last two years, I really thought I'd punched my ticket for good," Fury admitted candidly. "But then, it never happened. Kinda makes me wonder what the hell I'm still doing here."

"It's been a rough ride," Natasha agreed solemnly. "For all of us."

"There's never been any promise you get a smooth ride," Fury pointed out. "The Good Book says, there may be journeys when even your right hand and your right eye are among the things you have to leave behind."

"Since when did you start quoting the Bible?"

"When it started to become so freakin' relevant to my whole damn life. What can I do for you, Natasha?"

"What makes you think I'm here for business?"

"Because people like us, we don't get together for social occasions."

"No, we don't," Natasha agreed sadly, thinking of Happy Hogan's invitation. "But maybe we should."

"And the fact that it's only about half past five in the morning was kind of a tip-off."

Despite the heaviness of her heart, Natasha couldn't help grinning at Fury's quip. "I'm putting together a search and rescue team to retrieve two scientists, possibly abducted by aliens."

"Really."

"I don't know if this means anything, but one of the missing scientists is Jane Foster."

"Uh-huh. If Thor's main squeeze is involved, it definitely means something."

"This might end up being an extraction under hostile fire in enemy territory. And by enemy territory, I mean, off-world. I could use some muscle."

"Who did you have in mind?"

"Honestly, if I thought you were up for it, you'd be the first person I'd ask."

"Well, thank you." Fury seemed to take genuine pleasure in the compliment.

"I was kind of hoping you could pull some strings with your buddies at the Pentagon," Natasha confided. "Put me in touch with Colonel Danvers."

Fury looked down his nose at his visitor disapprovingly. "You're not supposed to know about her, Romanoff."

"I'm a spy, Nick. Or I used to be. Finding out government secrets is kind of my thing."

Fury sighed and settled himself back in his chair. "Danvers is off-world," he said with finality.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, she's somewhere I can't reach her. Somewhere nobody in the whole damn Air Force can reach her. Or don't you think we would have called her back, when that big purple whack job showed up to wipe out half the planet. If Danvers was your plan A, you'd damn well better start working on your plan B."

Natasha's heart sank. "I don't really have one," she confessed.

"Unprepared?" Fury seemed genuinely surprised. "That's not like you, Natasha."

"No. It's not. I guess I'm a little off my game these days."

"Wanda goin' with you?"

"Yes, of course she is."

Fury grinned. "And you said you needed muscle."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Romanoff, I've seen that little girl turn giant robots inside out with a wave of her hand. She can warp reality itself just by bending her pinkie finger. Hell. The only thing I can do with my fingers is flip people off - and that's only when my arthritis ain't acting up. She's packing more firepower than Stark's combat suit and Thor's hammer combined."

"That's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?"

"Is it? Now, don't get me wrong about Wanda. I love that little Scarlet Witch. She's cute as a bug's ear and she always makes me laugh. But I don't let my like - or dislike - of anyone blind me to what they're capable of. And what Wanda is capable of is something I can't even begin to measure." Fury leaned forward in his chair again. "Who else is going with you?"

"We put in a call to Sam Wilson."

"He's a good man. He'll watch your six."

"Yeah. I'm counting on it."

"That's all?"

"So far. I want to keep the group small, though. Maybe one other person - if I could find the right person."

"Have you thought about asking Maria Hill?"

Natasha's face lit up with delighted surprise. She hadn't even considered contacting Fury's former right hand, but the suggestion made perfect sense. "Maria!"

"Whatever your mission, there's nothing she can't do. Field medic. Pilot. Soldier. Keeps her cool under fire. She was the youngest person in her class to make it to the officer ranks. And she's smart - a hell of a lot smarter than most people realize."

"You don't need to read me her résumé, Nick, I'd work with her again in a heartbeat."

"She was supposed to replace me as director, did you know that? I was stupid enough to think I was actually going to retire." Fury shook his head in bemusement. "But now that every government and military organization on the planet are trying to rebuild, people like Hill are more precious than gold. She can basically pick any job she wants."

"Does that mean she's not available?"

"It means, if you want her on your team, you need to make her want the job." He took a small notepad from the end table next to his chair and scribbled a number on it. "Here. Take this. It's Hill's private number. Only three people, apart from you and me, know it."

"Not to be shared. Got it." Natasha carefully folded the paper and tucked it inside the side pocket of her jacket.

"And she's gonna shoot me, the moment she learns you got that from me." Fury snorted in amusement. "You do have one thing working in your favor, though."

"What's that?"

"Right now, every military around the world has holes in their organizations they need to fill. Above all, they need to train people. Anyone who's halfway good at their job is being asked to train everybody else."

"And she doesn't want to stand in a classroom in front of a blackboard," Natasha guessed.

"Actually, she does. But she wants to do that when she's sixty. Not while she's still young enough to be out in the field."

"Nick - thank you," Natasha sighed with relief. "You're a godsend. Like always."

"Don't thank me," Fury ruffed. "Maybe I'm just taking advantage of this opportunity to get you to create a new response team for me."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Is that really what you're doing? Letting me do the legwork to build a new Avengers team?"

"This ain't my show, Romanoff, it's yours," Fury shot back. "But I would say this. Get your team together. Go do whatever it is you need to do. But when you get back, if everything works out, then maybe, just maybe you might want to consider making that a more permanent arrangement. Just something to think about."

"Ooh. I'm not sure I'm ready to think about that yet, boss."

"Nor should you," Fury answered. "You got a mission. Focus on that, and only that. Bring everybody home, safe. Then, we'll talk."

"Okay." Natasha hesitated a moment. She now had all she really came for, but she couldn't quite make herself get up and leave.

"I saw Tony," she confided in a low voice.

"How is he?"

"He... recognized me. That's something." She drew in a ragged breath. "It was tough."

"I'll bet it was." Fury shook his head slightly. "Few men in this world ever climbed up my backside the way Stark did. Man was a complete diva."

"Yeah, well, we sure could use the old Tony back, right about now."

Fury mulled that over. "First thing you learn as a mission leader is, you work with what you have," he offered quietly. "Wasting time worrying about what you ain't got is a luxury you can't afford."

"I wish it was that simple, boss. We lost almost everyone."

"It is that simple, Romanoff. The first rule of war is, win or lose, you lose people. It hurts. But you got to focus on what you have." He leaned forward in his chair slightly. "Look. It's like the old 'is the glass half empty or is the glass half full' calculus. You can drive yourself crazy, thinking about who or what it is you lost. Or you can take a good, hard look at what you do have, and work with that. But only one of those choices is gonna get any results. If it's me, I know which one I'm gonna pick. I want the glass that's still got some damn water left in it." He fixed Natasha with a somber stare. "When the war's over, that's when we grieve."

"Will the war ever be over?" Natasha asked despairingly.

"It will," Fury vowed. "Count on it."

Natasha smiled gratefully at Fury, realizing at that moment just how deeply she loved him. _This poor man can barely stand,_ she thought to herself. _And I'm still leaning on him with all my weight._

"Thanks for the pep talk, boss. I really did need that." She exhaled deeply, then stood up to leave. "Okay. I gotta fly."

"That's the spirit. Go get 'em, tiger."

As Natasha headed for the front door, Fury called after her. "Romanoff."

Natasha turned back. "Yeah?"

"Tell Wanda I said, hi."

A slow grin spread across Natasha's face. "Tell you what. When we get back, Wanda and I will come over, and tell you all about our mission, in person. Anything that's not classified, that is."

"You're bringing the beer?"

"Well, yeah. Duh."

"Okay, then." Fury nodded with a smile. "I'll be waitin'."

Fury sat quietly as Natasha left the room. Once he heard the front door close, and the car pull away, he picked up his phone again. He scrolled through a list of contacts and placed a call.

"Carter? Is that you? Nick Fury. ... Yeah. It's good to hear your voice, too. Listen. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but there may be an opportunity coming up you might want to look into..."


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Natasha returned to her apartment building, she was seething with irritation - she was badly behind schedule, with no one but herself to blame for the delay. She was opening the car door even before the vehicle had come to a complete stop in her parking space.

"Natasha, please, do not attempt to exit the vehicle while it is still in motion," Sandy cautioned in a worried voice. "I may not be able to protect you in an emergency."

"Sandy, keep the motor running," Natasha ordered, ignoring the warning. "We should be down in ten minutes, no less."

"I'll be waiting," Sandy promised.

Fortunately, the penthouse lift was a private and direct access car, so Natasha was able to reach the top floor in barely under a minute. She burst into the apartment to find Wanda already waiting for her.

"You're late," Wanda announced, somewhat petulantly.

"You're... dressed," Natasha observed in mild shock.

And for the first time in a very long time, Wanda _was_ dressed - in a fully equipped jet-black combat suit and boots, with her favorite full-length dark red coat over her uniform.

Natasha realized belatedly that it had been weeks, or maybe even months, since she had seen Wanda take any real notice or care with her attire. Ever since returning to New York, the younger woman had been wont to just throw on any old blouse, slacks, or skirt, whatever happened to be laying around, without any regard for the state or cleanliness of her clothing. Shoes and socks had been mostly optional, and mostly discarded. But now, Wanda had clearly gone to some considerable trouble not only to make herself look presentable, but to make herself combat-ready. Even her long red hair had been carefully styled, falling in gently highlighted ringlets on either side of her round face. The change in her appearance was striking. But this was not the standard outfit Wanda had worn on previous Avengers' missions. Rather, she was wearing a sleek, dark combat suit, closer in style to the one Natasha herself wore in the field. The only part of Wanda's attire that suggested her old uniform was her dark red coat, its belt opened at the waist.

"You look... great," Natasha gaped in astonishment.

"Thanks," Wanda smiled shyly, more in reaction to Natasha's incredulous look than the compliment.

"But - but where's the, uhh, corset thingie?" Natasha made a vague gesture with her hands, pointing to her chest area.

Wanda shrugged. "Oh. Yeah. It wasn't very comfortable," she admitted. "I decided to ditch it, for now. Until I can come up with something else I like better."

Natasha simply nodded, wondering sadly if part of that decision hadn't also come from the fact that Wanda no longer had a boyfriend to admire her buxom figure. But she elected to say nothing.

"Did you get ahold of Sam?"

"Yeah. He's in."

"Did you give him any details?"

"I didn't need to," Wanda answered. "He was, like, 'Whatever you need, I'm there'. I told him to suit up and be ready for pick-up within the hour." She sighed adoringly. "I love Sam."

Natasha grinned. "Yeah. I do, too."

"So, who is Sandy?"

"She's our ride."

"Our ride?"

"Stark prototype transport. I'll explain later."

"Well, then, don't just stand there," Wanda scolded. "Go, go, go! Take your three minute power shower so we can get out of here! I'm almost finished packing our gear bags, and I know how grumpy you get if you don't get a chance to clean yourself up before going into the field."

Natasha was instantly indignant. "I do not -" she started to protest, and then abruptly cut herself off. That was one argument she knew she had no chance of winning. While Wanda grinned at her knowingly, Natasha retreated to the privacy of her own room to make herself ready.

Five minutes later - Natasha was only too painfully aware of the time spent - she had showered and dressed in her own combat suit, reluctantly admitting that Wanda was right and the few extra minutes spent cleaning herself up had refreshed her state of mind as well. As Natasha re-entered the living room, Wanda was ready with two gear bags, filled and straps secured, on the couch.

"Now, you look like you're ready to kick some ass," Wanda nodded approvingly.

"Yours will be first," Natasha growled.

With a grunt of irritation, she snatched her own gear bag off the couch, and headed for the elevator. Wanda followed, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

When they entered the parking garage a few moments later, Wanda exclaimed indignantly, "Hey, someone parked in our spot!"

It was Natasha's turn to grin. "That's Sandy. She's our ride."

"This is Sandy?" Wanda looked the car over with great interest. She smiled in approval. "She's a redhead. Like us."

"Wanda, get in," Natasha barked. "You can make introductions on the way."

"Hello, Sandy," Wanda greeted the AI as she settled herself into the passenger seat.

"Good morning, Miss Maximoff," Sandy replied.

Wanda giggled slightly. "Call me Wanda, please."

"Good morning, Wanda."

"Sandy, give me the wheel," Natasha requested, as she slid into the driver's seat.

"Driver control is relinquished to you," Sandy replied. "Let me know when you're ready to engage flight mode."

Natasha floored the accelerator and the car almost leaped from its parking space.

"You're a Stark AI, aren't you?" Wanda asked, looking over the crowded display on the screen with great curiosity.

"I'm a fifth generation operational interface system, designed by Stark Industries," Sandy confirmed.

"Awesome," Wanda bobbed her head. "I'm pleased to meet you. My last boyfriend was an AI," she confided shyly.

"I'm pleased to meet you too, Wanda. And please accept my sincerest condolences, for your loss."

"Oh! Uhh, thank you," Wanda replied, both startled and genuinely touched by the unexpected gesture of sympathy.

"Sandy, call Sam Wilson, and put him on video," Natasha requested.

"Dialing Sam Wilson."

A few moments later, Sam's face appeared on the view screen in the center of the dashboard.

"Hey, ladies," the handsome young man smiled as he caught sight of his friends. "What's the story?"

"Hey, Sam. We're headed your way now. We should be in D.C. within the hour," Natasha answered, not taking her eyes off the road.

"Anything you can tell me about the mission? Or if there's anything I should be packing?"

"We'll be heading to Geneva. Jane Foster's been kidnapped."

"Okay," Sam responded in a dubious voice, clearly wondering - as Wanda had first done - why this warranted the need for special operatives.

"From the description, it sounds like the kidnappers are using an inter-dimensional portal, that looks suspiciously like the one created by the Tesseract."

"Oh, not those damn stones _again?"_ Sam groaned.

"We won't know for certain until we're on the ground," Natasha responded. "But it's definitely something we need to check out."

"Understood. I'll be standing by."

"We'll let you know as soon as we're in your airspace," Natasha promised, and terminated the call. "Sandy, please look up the number I've just added for Maria Hill in my contact list. Extrapolate all known physical addresses for that number."

"Checking." There was a brief pause. "There is only one listing - in Annapolis, Maryland."

"Take us there."

"We can safely assume flight mode in five minutes."

"Great. Once we're airborne, assume full vehicle control, please."

"Understood."

"You don't want to call Agent Hill?" Wanda asked Natasha.

Natasha shook her head. "No. According to what Fury told me, if we're going to enlist Maria's help, we need a sales pitch. A good one. And I can't make a pitch like that over the phone. I need to look her in the eye."

"What are you going to tell her?"

"I'm going to ask her if she's ready to save the world. Again." Natasha exhaled nervously. "I just hope she's willing to listen to me."

"Why wouldn't she?" Wanda frowned in puzzlement.

"She might be like the rest of us," Natasha answered grimly. "Tired of losing people."

Once they were clear of traffic - now something easily managed in a far-less-densely populated city - Sandy assumed control of the car, engaged the repulsors, pulled the tires into their protective bays and shot off into a low-altitude flight path. As Sandy gained altitude, airfoils extended from either side of the undercarriage as Natasha watched in amazement. It was almost as if the wings were literally growing out of Sandy's skin.

"Once we're clear of commercial air traffic pathways, I will assume optimum cruising altitude, approximately 30,000 feet," Sandy reported. "Estimated arrival time in Annapolis, thirty-five minutes."

"Thanks, Sandy. I am assuming you have radar and can keep us out of range of anything in the immediate airspace."

"Correct. Do you wish me to enter stealth mode?"

Natasha exchanged a quick, anticipatory glance with Wanda. "You can make us invisible to radar?"

"And to visual identification using reflective paneling. Yes."

Natasha's expression suggested pleased bemusement. "Do it."

"Heat signatures and vapor trails could still identify us," Sandy cautioned.

"I think we can risk that," Natasha decided. "We're significantly smaller than any other aircraft normally flying at these altitudes."

"Engaging stealth mode."

Natasha leaned back in her seat and sighed with relief. "Great, nap time," she declared.

"Did you want to try calling Erik back?" Wanda suggested. "He may have had time to download images from the cameras for us."

Natasha shook her head. "No," she decided. "Let's wait until Sam and Maria are aboard. Then we can all get the same information at the same time." She managed a smile. "Too bad we didn't pack a thermos of coffee."

"Coffee and a variety of other beverages are available upon request," Sandy offered.

Natasha's eyes went wide. "You have coffee? _Real_ coffee?"

"I can have a fresh carafe brewed in five minutes."

"Sandy, I love you," Natasha declared forthrightly.

Thirty-nine minutes later, Sandy's sleek form had dropped out of airspace, and was now entering the neighborhood containing Maria Hill's address - once more traveling on tires like a normal car. Natasha and Wanda both looked out the windows at the surrounding houses with more than idle curiosity. Neither of them really knew anything about Maria Hill's private life, and they were intrigued to see what her house looked like.

"I just had an awful thought," Natasha murmured. "What if the address on file is just a dummy address? Maria has spent most of her adult life as a covert government agent. This could just be a setup to keep her real residence private."

"I don't think so," Wanda answered.

"Oh? Why's that?"

Wanda's tilt of her head indicated the house directly ahead. "Because I think she's waiting for us."

"What?"

As they pulled up to the residence, Maria Hill was in fact already waiting for them at the curb, standing fully dressed in her combat uniform, sidearm in the ready position, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Bemused, Natasha lowered the car window.

"Maria. Hi."

"It's about time you got here," she greeted them. "I've been waiting for twelve minutes." Maria walked around to the back of the car, undid the latch and threw her duffel bag into the storage area. She closed the hood, opened the side passenger door, and slipped inside.

"Uhh, Maria, do you even know why we're here?" Natasha asked uncertainly.

"You can brief me on the way," was the terse reply. "Let's roll."

She buckled her safety and shoulder belts, and looked at Natasha expectantly - almost impatiently.

Wanda glanced over at Natasha, her dark eyes wide with surprise.

"I hope the rest of the mission goes as smoothly as this," she declared solemnly.

Natasha could only agree. "Yeah. Me, too," she admitted. "Okay, Sandy," she said to the AI, "Let's go pick up Sam."


	5. Chapter 5

Sam Wilson stood on the empty tarmac, staring up into a cloud-scattered sky. It was barely an hour past sunrise, and a slight but persistent breeze made him huddle shivering in his flight jacket. In another hour, it would be more than warm enough to walk around in a t-shirt and shorts; but for now, a definite chill lingered in the air.

He caught sight of the aircraft at the periphery of his vision and watched it descend. His expression changed to a puzzled frown. The closer the craft came, the stranger it seemed. The body looked eerily similar to the short-lived space shuttles used by NASA in the late 80s and early 90s. But the vehicle was far too small to be an orbital shuttle. It was barely larger than a passenger van. And the color was eye-catchingly different from most other aircraft: its outer hull was painted in a dark, metallic red.

As Sam watched the craft approach the runway, he also became aware of a complete lack of engine noise. Was it gliding, then? Even in final descent, there should still be sounds of either jets or propellers. When the craft was just about a hundred feet above the ground, the answer became visible, if not audible: Sam could see the warm, pulsating glow of repulsor cannons firing beneath the fuselage, gently braking the ship and stabilizing its descent. He shook his head with a bemused grin.

"Tony Stark. I shoulda known."

As the craft came gliding down the runway, the wheels slowly descended from their protective housings. But Sam had to tear off his aviator glasses and stare, blinking incredulously in the brightening sunlight, as the wings of the craft seemed to literally shrink and melt - dissolving back into the skin of the aircraft. By the time it rolled up to where he was standing, the vehicle had assumed the modest appearance of a smallish SUV. Natasha Romanoff was seated behind the driver's wheel, grinning at him through the front window.

"Tasha, what the hell is this thing?" He bellowed in greeting, walking towards the car.

Natasha opened the door, exited the car and gave the young man a tight hug.

"A little present from Pepper and Tony. Good to see you, Sam."

"Yeah. Good to see you, too."

He looked up to see Maria Hill and Wanda Maximoff also exiting the vehicle, smiling at him broadly.

"Wanda, Maria," he nodded towards them in greeting.

Wanda rushed forward and applied an effusive, crushing bear hug on the young man.

"I think she's happy to see you," Maria grinned. "How are you, Sam?"

"Can't complain," he answered with a slight grunt, as Wanda still had a constrictor-like hold on him. "How are things with you?"

"Good, good."

"You working yet?"

"Not yet," Maria answered, and seeing Sam's incredulous look, she quickly added: "I promise, I'll give you a full debrief later."

"Wanda, I think you can let go of Sam now," Natasha suggested quietly. Wanda did so, albeit slowly and quite reluctantly.

"So what the hell is this thing?" Sam jerked a thumb in Sandy's direction. "And why'd you paint her red?"

"Sandy's our transport," Natasha grinned. "She can fly, swim, drive over land - she can do just about anything except orbit the moon. She's red because she uses solar collectors in her fuselage to store energy for her repulsor cannons."

"You call it Sandy?"

"She's a she, and yes, her name is Sandy," Wanda answered, a little defensively.

"She has an onboard AI," Natasha added. "She's very sweet. You'll like her. I promise."

"Uh-huh. What is she, another Jarvis?"

"I haven't asked, but I assume she's the next generation AI after Friday. If you're curious, you can ask her yourself."

"Yeah. I think I'll take a pass on that. If you ask me, all Stark AIs got a little too much of Stark in 'em."

"Why'd you want to meet out here at the airport, Sam?" Natasha asked.

"And a puddle jumper 'port at that," Maria seconded, looking around the airfield with obvious disdain.

Sam nodded towards a larger, slightly boxy gear bag, sitting on the runway next to his own duffel bag. "I brought a Redwing. The smallest one I got. Just in case, because, well, you never know."

"Not the one with the heat seeking missiles?" Natasha blanched.

"No, no, the little one, you know, with all the surveillance cameras and sensors? I didn't pack any other hardware, apart from my M9. I figured if y'all were planning on a firefight, you'd be bringing a lot bigger crew than this." He looked at each of them in turn, his evident happiness at seeing them clearly tinged with sorrow. "It really is good to see you ladies," he said somberly.

"It's good to see you too, Sam."

Sam made the barest shake of his head. "Hard to accept, we're all that's left now."

Natasha wrapped her arm around the young man's waist and squeezed him tightly. "Oh, Sam," she sighed mournfully. Wanda stood with tears welling in her eyes, and Maria cast her eyes downward, staring dismally at the pavement beneath her feet.

"Look, I figure we're on the clock, so why don't I load up Redwing, and we can be on our way," Sam suggested.

"Let me remove some gear from the boot first," Maria pleaded. "We're carrying a lot of other stuff back there, we can put the Redwing on the bottom."

"Yeah, we brought repulsor gauntlets, Sam," Natasha grinned. "On this trip, we all get to be Iron Man."

"Riiight. Look, I'm not trying to start a squabble right off the blocks, but just so we're clear, who am I taking my orders from on this mission?" Sam cast a quick, almost apologetic glance over at Maria.

Maria and Natasha exchanged a quick glance with one another.

"This is Natasha's team," Maria answered simply. "She's in command."

"Okay, then," Sam nodded, satisfied.

As Natasha and Maria began to empty out Sandy's boot, Wanda came up to Sam with a puzzled frown. "What was all that about?" she asked, mystified.

Sam gave her an embarrassed smile. "There can only be one alpha in the pack," he explained. "I just need to know who the top dog is."

"Oh."

Wanda glanced back at her friends, who, having removed the repulsor gauntlets from the boot, were apparently having an animated discussion about how best to use them with their other weapons. She could see Sam's point, partly; Natasha and Maria were both intelligent and exceptionally strong-willed, and showed a natural inclination to lead. But she could never imagine the two of them butting heads as Steve and Tony so often did. If there were any tensions between them regarding who was giving orders and who was receiving them, Wanda was confident they would resolve any issues without disrupting either the team or the mission.

"I don't think they would -" she started to say, but Sam cut her off.

"No, no, I don't think so, either," he assured her hastily. "But it never hurts to make sure everyone's on the same page before the mission starts. You never want to settle an issue of chain of command in the field."

As Sam brought the Redwing duffle over to the car, Natasha announced, "Everyone, before we take off, I'll need each of you to sit in the driver's seat for just a minute. That's so Sandy can scan you, and identify you as an authorized user." She glanced over at Maria. "Maria, if you wouldn't mind, I'd also like to designate you as our official group pilot."

"Sure, no problem," Maria nodded.

"Sandy's no F-22, but I'd feel a lot better if we had someone at the controls who's logged more than thirty hours of flight time in the last year."

Maria frowned in puzzlement. "I thought Sandy could fly herself?"

"She can, but in case of trouble, we'll be in much safer hands with you."

"Don't I get to fly Sandy?" Wanda protested.

"Have you ever flown any aircraft before?" Maria asked.

"Well... no..."

"Would you like to learn?"

Wanda's eyes lit up with excitement. "You can teach me to fly?"

Maria grinned. "I'll even take you up in a fighter jet, if you're up for it. No finer ride in the world," she declared.

"Maria and I were just discussing how to use our new toys," Natasha said, gently putting them all back on topic. "I can't really use a repulsor, unless I'm willing to give up at least one set of widow stings. And I guess I'm going to stick with what I know for this mission. Sam, I was kind of hoping we could outfit you on both arms, just in case we might need a strafing run, or something."

"Sure, suits me," Sam agreed. "I don't control Redwing through a wristband any more, so I can have cannons on both arms. I've never used a repulsor before, though. I'd like to get in a couple of practice shots before we get into the field."

"I think we can arrange that," Natasha agreed. "I'd like to try one out myself. Wanda, how about you?"

The dark-haired girl shook her head. "I need both hands free for focusing energy," she pleaded. "Having one of those things on my arms might make it harder for me to use my powers."

"Fair enough. Maria?"

"Yeah, I'll wear one. I want my gun arm free, but I can put one on my other wrist."

"Great. Before we commit to flying to Geneva, let's get Erik on a video call. See if there's anything else he can share with us before we head out." Natasha paused for a moment. "Everyone, just so we're clear, even if there is a hostile force on the other side of that wormhole - and I believe there is - we are not going to engage the enemy. We retrieve our people, and we get out. We fire only if fired upon." She fixed them all with a grim stare. "It's not like we have the Avengers to back us up anymore."

Sam, Maria and Wanda all exchanged troubled glances.

"Natasha..." Wanda said in a small voice, "We _are_ the Avengers."

"The Avengers are dead and gone," Natasha almost spat out the words. "We're just the leftovers."

"But -" Wanda started to protest.

"Wanda, you are _not_ bulletproof," Natasha said firmly. _"None_ of us are bulletproof. And I want everyone coming home safe from this mission. Everyone. Are we clear?" Reluctantly, Natasha's teammates all nodded their understanding, and Natasha nodded her own grim satisfaction in return. "All right, then. Sam, please help Maria get our gear loaded. I'll see if I can get Erik online."

As Natasha returned to the driver's seat, Sam started to follow her, but Maria gently blocked his path with one arm.

"Leave her be," she advised in a low voice. She watched with obvious sympathy as Natasha angrily punched numbers in on the keypad with far greater force than was needed. "She's just feeling what we're all feeling."

Natasha waited with evident impatience as her call rang through. When Erik Selvig's exhausted, haggard face appeared on the monitor, she greeted him churlishly. "Talk to me, Erik. I hope you have something good for us."

"The cameras that Jane and Darcy were setting up were damaged beyond repair," Selvig replied. "There's nothing to retrieve from them."

"Okay, that's no help at all."

"But the probes all survived, and I'm uploading their data for analysis now."

"Getting better," Natasha grudgingly admitted.

"Also, the lab here has a security camera, up in the ceiling," Selvig added. "There's no audio, but it gives a good bird's eye view of the entire lab floor. And it was recording when the event happened. We have a video of the entire thing."

"Now that's more like it. Can you play that back for us?"

"Sure. Give me just a minute."

"Wanda, Maria, Sam, pile in," Natasha called out. "Erik has video of the kidnapping to show us."

Natasha's teammates quickly slid into any open seat, clustering their faces as close to the central console as they could reasonably get. Selvig switched the video feed from his own camera to the security console. The recording of the lab floor showed a workplace that was quiet and serene.

"You can see Jane and Darcy working at the computer stations in the foreground," he noted.

"So, what's happening here?" Maria asked. "What were they working on, right before they vanished?"

"We've been using the observatory's monitoring equipment to pinpoint locations for potential black holes," Selvig answered. "Please understand, this is passive observation. We were not sending any signals into space, or anything like that. The distances involved are simply too great."

"Understood."

There was a blinding flare in the camera lens, as the wormhole opened. The two women became little more than barely-recognizable silhouettes in the glare.

"Oh, my God," Maria murmured. "Look at that. It's just like the energy signature from the Tesseract." She pointed at the screen. "Look at the edges of the event horizon. It's virtually identical."

Although Jane and Darcy were barely visible, it was evident that they were scrambling to set up equipment in front of the wormhole.

Sam frowned in puzzlement. "I don't get it. With a black hole, isn't there, like, a gravity well or something?" he asked dubiously. "Shouldn't they, I don't know, get sucked in?"

"That's a very good question," Natasha admitted. "There is local atmospheric disturbance, you can see it. But they don't seem to be fighting against it."

"No, there was nothing like that," Selvig confirmed. "It felt like a strong breeze, but certainly nothing that could overwhelm you. And the air pressure was moving outwards, away from the object, not in towards it."

There was a sudden whiplash of a shadow through the glare, somewhere near the lower legs of the women.

"Erik, can you freeze the image?" Maria called out.

Selvig did so, and Maria peered at the screen, frowning intently. "Can you enlarge or enhance the image?"

"I can blow it up, make it larger, but the quality is about as good as you're going to get."

"Do it, anyway."

Selvig enlarged the frame. "Okay, now, tilt down, nearer the floor," Maria directed.

"You see something?" Natasha asked.

"There. Look there," Maria pointed. Although the pixelation made it difficult to discern, the close-up of Jane's leg showed the fabric of her slacks being pulled - from what, it was impossible to say.

"What _is_ that?" Natasha murmured.

"At a guess, I'd say, a hook, or a grapple?" Maria surmised. "Something came out of that wormhole and is grabbing them."

"Yes, but what? I don't see any other figures."

"Doesn't have to be a person," Maria pointed out. "It could be, well, a harpoon or lasso of some kind."

"Erik, can you please resume normal playback?" Natasha asked.

Selvig did as requested, and everyone could now see that the two women were evidently struggling - not only to maintain their balance, but also to free themselves from whatever was constricting them. But in an eyeblink, they were yanked backwards through the surface of the event horizon, and swallowed up by the glare. A moment later, the wormhole collapsed, and the interior lab lights went out. A second after that, the video itself cut off.

"We lost all power after the wormhole vanished," Selvig explained. "But at least the security camera caught the event while it was active."

Natasha and Maria exchanged a worried glance with one another.

"There's no way this was accidental," Maria said grimly. "This was deliberate, and planned."

"I agree," Natasha nodded. "And it has to be someone who knows Jane - or, more likely, someone who knows Thor."

Sam snorted in disgust. "Yeah, well, if the kidnappers are hoping to get Thor's attention, they got one long wait coming."

"Thor's only missing, Sam," Wanda pointed out. "We don't know for certain that he's gone." She couldn't quite bring herself to say the word, "dead".

"Dude travels between universes," Sam shot back. "Even if he does spend his vacations on Earth, it's not like we can just go up and ring his doorbell, you know?"

"Erik, there've been no other disturbances since we last spoke?" Natasha sought to confirm.

"Not a peep," Selvig answered. "All power is restored, but I've left all equipment either off or in ready state, as you requested. The only equipment currently in use is the computer that is uploading the probe data."

"Good. We're on our way to you. We'll be there in -" she looked over to Maria for confirmation. "What kind of flight time, do you think?"

"If Sandy's only as fast as commercial aircraft, flight time is probably just over eight hours," Maria estimated. "Obviously, if she's faster, we can be there sooner."

"We'll make best possible speed," Natasha promised. "But no later than eight hours, max. And we'll call back, as soon as we're in your local airspace."

"I'll be waiting, Natasha. And thank you. Thanks, all of you."

Less than ten minutes later, Natasha and her teammates had all their equipment stored, had strapped themselves in, and Sandy began an impressively steep climb into the sky, shooting away from the D.C. area at astonishing speed, with Maria at the controls, and Natasha in the front passenger seat. Sam and Wanda made themselves comfortable on the rear bench seat.

"This is incredible," Maria marveled. "I really didn't expect a craft this small to handle so well. Or for the cabin to be so insulated."

"I didn't expect to have any room for my legs in the back seat, either," Sam sighed happily. "I can even stretch out a little. This is great."

"Why, thank you," Sandy positively glowed from the compliments. "I'm glad you approve."

"Be careful, you'll give her a swelled head," Natasha joked.

"Listen, everyone, this is still likely to be a long flight, and by that I mean several hours," Maria pointed out. "You guys might want to grab some kip while you can. Once we touch ground, there's no guarantee how much down time we'll have."

"All passenger seats will recline, if you wish to make yourselves comfortable," Sandy added.

"Maybe in a little while," Wanda agreed. "But first, we have to come up with a group name."

"Group name?" Natasha frowned, bewildered.

"Yeah. If we're not the Avengers any more, then we need a new name. 'Avengers Leftovers' just isn't going to cut it."

Wanda had clearly recovered from Natasha's earlier rudeness, and was intent on teasing her about it. Natasha grinned, only too happy to let Wanda rebuke her.

"Okay, okay, I was a little brusque earlier, I admit," she conceded. "I'm sorry."

"We should call ourselves the Black Widows," Wanda exclaimed, with sudden inspiration.

"The Black Widows?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah! Because this is Natasha's team, and we're going to be really deadly to evil, and we want to scare the crap out of all the bad guys."

It was all Natasha could do to keep from laughing out loud.

"No way I'm calling myself a widow," Sam snorted with disgust. "I'm the wrong gender, for one thing."

"Oh, come on, Sam," Wanda pleaded. "We love you. You're just like one of the girls to us."

At that, Natasha and Maria burst into hearty peals of laughter.

"Oh, thanks for that," Sam grumbled.

"Learn to take a compliment, Sam," Maria giggled from the driver's seat.

"Guys, guys, please," Natasha was still chuckling. "We're not putting a band together. We can worry about group names later."

"Unless you come up with something better, I'm calling us the Black Widows," Wanda insisted, her mind made up.

"Okay, okay, fine. If it makes you happy, we'll roll with that." Natasha looked back at her friend and gave her a tender smile. "I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier."

"It's okay," Wanda smiled, apology fully accepted. "You were right. We need to be careful, and to come home safe."

"Yes. We do."

About an hour into the flight, conversation in the cabin had long since quieted down. Natasha discreetly looked behind her to check on her teammates. Both Wanda and Sam were dozing along the back seat, Wanda's cheek resting against Sam's chest, leaving a sizable puddle of drool on his shirt. She smiled and glanced over at Maria.

"You could let Sandy take the autopilot, you know," she suggested.

"No, I'm good," Maria answered, still staring out the front window. "Thanks. Besides, this gives me a chance to get acquainted with how she handles. She's been like a dream so far. It might be fun to take her up sometime by myself, though, without passengers, and see what she can really do."

"Mmm. I'm sure if you ask her nicely, she'd be more than happy to let you." She paused for a moment, suddenly shy. "Thank you."

Maria glanced up from her control display. "What for?"

"For coming with us."

"Natasha, really, there's no need to thank me."

"I assume Fury called you."

"Nick?" Maria seemed surprised. "No. Nick Fury didn't call me. Pepper Stark did."

It was Natasha's turn to be surprised. _"Pepper_ called you?" She hesitated a moment. "What did she say?"

"That you needed my help."

Natasha cast her eyes downward for a moment; there was no arguing the truth of that. "I _do_ need your help," she agreed. "Badly."

Maria made a show of checking the flight readings on the instrument panel, choosing not to respond.

"You mentioned to Sam you're still not working?" Natasha ventured, after a long pause had passed between them.

"Nope."

Natasha frowned in puzzlement. "Fury says you can write your own ticket. Why haven't you taken a job somewhere else?"

Maria sighed deeply, and after a moment, looked up from the controls. "There's really only two types of jobs for someone like me. I can teach, if I want to. I get offers almost every day - good, generous offers - from nearly every military academy there is." Maria wasn't boasting, she was simply stating a fact. "And I look at them, and I think, yes, this could really be my dream job... thirty years from now. But not right now."

"Why not now?"

"Because there's too much real work left to be done."

Natasha mulled that over for a moment, wondering what Maria's definition of 'real work' might be. But there was still one question to ask before that.

"You said, two types of jobs. What's the other one? Who else wants the services of someone like you?"

Maria paused a moment for answering. "The empire builders."

She pushed the steering wheel up and away from her. "Sandy, take the helm for a few minutes, will you?"

"Assuming control of flight mode," Sandy confirmed.

Maria shifted slightly in her seat, giving Natasha her full attention. "We had a game-changing event on this planet," she began haltingly. "Something that should have changed... everything. Half the people who ever were... they're just... gone." She paused for a moment, still hardly able to believe it herself. "And the people who recruit me don't care about that. They literally don't. All they care about is building up their armies and their arsenals, so they can go right back to the exact same war games they had going on, before half the planet disappeared. They all talk about what a unique opportunity it is, to be able to build up their apparatus faster than a decimated enemy. I don't think they even know what the word 'decimated' means," she sighed disconsolately.

Natasha thought she caught a glimmer of what Maria might consider her life's work. "Look, S.H.I.E.L.D. may be gone, but there must be other organizations out there, that have world security and protection in mind," she protested. "Not just the acquisition of political or military power."

"Maybe." Again, Maria considered her response a long time before answering. "Even after Nick hired me, I thought, I'm giving up way too much for my career," she admitted. "But it was a trade-off I was willing to make, because I believed in the mission. After we fought the Winter Soldier, I realized I needed to take a long, hard look in the mirror."

Maria stared out the cabin window, watching as clusters of puffy, white cumulus clouds slid by underneath them. "S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to be the endgame in security and peacekeeping initiatives," she sighed again. "We were going to protect the world. Yet the majority of people working for S.H.I.E.L.D. were there to subvert its mission. And I never saw it. Not once did I see it. I was deputy director for the largest security organization on the planet, and I let something that big and that obvious slip right by me. How good can I be at my job, if half the people under my command were actively working against me, and I never even noticed."

"Everyone gets blindsided sometimes, Maria, especially by people we trust," Natasha protested gently. "You can't blame yourself for that."

"I guess you would know."

"I _do_ know, that was my bread and butter for years. It's one of the reasons Fury hired me."

Maria gave Natasha a dismayed look. "I didn't mean to imply -"

"I know. I know you didn't," Natasha assured her. "Besides... you and I have worked together long enough to know where we both really stand." She sighed sadly. "Look, you're not the only one who was caught off-guard by the HYDRA infiltration. Steve didn't catch it. I certainly didn't. Fury only found out after it was too late to do anything about it. If you're beating yourself up for dropping the ball, well, stop. Because you have lots of company."

"Thanks." Maria managed a grateful smile. "I just wanted you to know you're not the only one questioning yourself. And if recent events haven't exactly made me reorder my priorities, they certainly forced me to re-examine them. I still believe in the mission. And I still think I have something to offer. I'm just not certain that a huge organization like S.H.I.E.L.D. is the answer any more."

She stared out the front window again, watching the clouds race past. "At the end of the day, there's really only one thing that matters," she said thoughtfully. "Protecting the innocent. Defending the powerless. Doing that to the very best of our ability, and with every last ounce of strength we have. It's what Steve believed in, and died fighting for. That's why when Pepper called me, I knew I had to join you. Because no matter what the mission was, I knew you would be trying to help someone. The rest is just details."

With an embarrassed smile, Maria turned her attention back to the control panel. She rarely revealed so much of her private thoughts to others so openly, and doing so made her feel awkward and self-conscious. "Sandy, I'm ready to resume manual flight control now," she informed the AI.

"Confirmed."

Natasha regarded her friend warmly, her eyes shining. She realized no words would be adequate to express her gratitude - for all that Maria had committed to on her behalf without question, for all she brought to the table, and for simply being who she was. She reached over, clasped Maria's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Thank you, for coming with us," she said, with great solemnity.

Maria gave her a shy, grateful smile in return. "Thanks for having me," she replied.


	6. Chapter 6

Dr. Erik Selvig probably fit the stereotypical definition of a cosmologist as well as anyone might. His perpetually rumpled, mismatched clothing seemed to have been chosen completely at random, and as often as not, his wardrobe was incomplete, missing shoes, hats, stockings or even pants. His kindly face often wore a vacant expression, and his manner frequently seemed distracted if not downright confused, as his nimble mind was busy concentrating on matters simply too complex for the average mind to comprehend. Normal aspects of everyday life, such as feeding and dressing himself, were concerns too trivial to be attended to, at least on a regular basis. The universe was waiting, impatiently, for Selvig to understand it, and Selvig was doing his best to oblige.

When Natasha and her friends arrived at Selvig's lab, however, his entire face lit up, expressing not only his relief but also great joy.

"It is so very good to see all of you," he declared, in a voice tremulous with emotion.

"It's good to see you too, Erik," Natasha murmured, giving the older man a quick hug of greeting.

"Your timing couldn't be better, I was just about to start reviewing the probe data... is this everyone?"

"Yes, I think you know everyone... Maria, Sam, Wanda," Natasha made brief introductions.

"Welcome, welcome. Please, grab a bar stool, a chair, whatever you can find, make yourselves comfortable," Selvig invited them. "The probe data has already been collated, but analysis might take some time. I'm sorry I have nothing to offer you for refreshments. The commissary will be out of service for several days yet."

"We're fine, Erik, thanks."

"Do you mind if I watch over your shoulder?" Maria asked Selvig.

"Not at all. Do you know anything about spectrographic analysis?"

"A little. I'm assuming you're looking for emission sources - gamma rays, X-rays, microwaves, that sort of thing."

"Yes, exactly. I'm hoping we can use the data to confirm the origin point of the wormhole - and perhaps, find a clue as to what powered it." Selvig pressed a few buttons on the keyboard and strings of numbers began to scroll rapidly across the large screen.

"Do you think the power source could be something other than the Tesseract?" Natasha asked.

"I don't know," Selvig answered simply. "I think most of you have guessed, we weren't just surveying for black holes. There are plenty of other observatories around the world undertaking that sort of work. Jane - Dr. Foster - had a very specific target in mind."

"She's trying to find the Einstein-Rosen bridge that leads to Asgard."

"Yes."

"She's trying to find Thor," Sam guessed, putting the pieces together. "But we don't know for certain that he's in Asgard."

"No," Selvig agreed, "But it's fair to say, Thor's own people might have much more efficacious means of locating him than we have."

"Maybe one of Thor's enemies is trying to pirate Jane's work?" Natasha mused aloud.

Sam almost laughed. "What, you think someone down here wants to start some shit with the Asgardians?"

"I don't know, Sam, humans are pretty stupid," Maria sighed sadly.

"Erik, I think it's safe to assume you've not received any ransom demands, or any other communication from the kidnappers?"

"Not a word," Selvig confirmed. "And anyone who knows our whereabouts well enough to create a wormhole in the middle of our lab, would certainly know how to contact me if they had any such demand."

Maria looked over at Natasha. "Which makes it more likely, whoever took Jane and Darcy, they want them for something. Something they can't find anywhere else."

"Ahh. Now this is interesting," Selvig exclaimed, pausing the readout. He stabbed a finger at the screen. "These energy source readings - they're not what I expected."

"How so?"

"If the Tesseract were actually the power source for the wormhole, these numbers would be significantly higher. They're far too low and in the wrong range for an Infinity Stone."

"And you would know that, because...?" Sam asked dubiously.

"Because I was once possessed by one," Selvig answered matter-of-factly.

"Oh."

"So, the wormhole wasn't opened by the Tesseract," Natasha suggested hopefully. "But if the Tesseract wasn't the energy source, what was?"

Selvig frowned. "I'm not certain. The structure of the event horizon is almost identical to the one that Loki opened six years ago. But no, it isn't the Tesseract that's powering it, I can almost guarantee that. There's something terribly familiar about these patterns. I can't quite put my finger on it. I can't seem to locate the source of the transmission, either. There doesn't seem to be any trajectory into deep space anywhere."

"May I take a look?" Maria asked.

"By all means, my dear." Selvig vacated the seat so Maria could sit in front of the console. Maria seated herself and her hands began to fly over the keyboard, eyes glued to the screen in front of her.

Sam leaned in to whisper in Natasha's ear. "She knows what she's doing, right?"

Natasha grinned. "Yes, Sam. Maria knows what she's doing."

"The search for our missing loved ones goes on," Selvig sighed sadly, and gave Natasha an almost apologetic smile. "Has there been any word about Dr. Banner?"

"Nothing yet," Natasha answered. "Thank you for asking."

"And how is Tony?"

"He's - better," Natasha allowed, after a moment's hesitation.

"But not well enough to travel," Selvig surmised. "Otherwise, I assumed he'd be here with you."

"No. He and Nick are both still on the disabled list, I'm afraid."

"Please give them my warmest regards, the next time you see them."

"I will," Natasha promised with a smile.

Everyone in the room gave a startled jump, as Maria let a profound obscenity escape her lips, shrieking at very nearly the top of her voice. "Oh, fuck _me!"_

"What is it?" Natasha asked. "What's wrong?"

"The source for the wormhole - it's not extraterrestrial! It's local!"

"It's _what?!"_

Natasha bent over the display as Maria continued to pound in numbers furiously on the keyboard.

"This thing originated on Earth!" Maria confirmed.

"Oh, no," Natasha murmured in dismay.

Sam frowned in bafflement. "Wait a minute, I don't get it," he pleaded. "Does that mean that _people_ are behind this thing appearing? I mean, human people, not like, aliens or something."

"Yes, Sam, that's exactly what it means," Natasha nodded grimly.

"But - that's a good thing, right? Isn't it easier to deal with human bad guys than alien bad guys?"

"It's not just bad, Sam! It's terrible!" Maria groaned. "It means some morons who haven't a clue what they're doing are just going around punching holes in space-time, without any regard to the consequences!"

Sam and Wanda exchanged baffled looks.

"Opening wormholes is bad?" Sam finally decided to venture a question he hoped wouldn't be completely stupid.

Erik Selvig's face wore a grave expression. "An artificially generated wormhole is going to cause serious disruptions along the gravimetric and nuclear lines of force that bind all matter together," he declared.

Sam's response was a blank look. "Yeah, in English, doc."

Selvig went over to his desk, and picked up a sheet of paper and a pencil.

"Imagine this is the plane of our space-time," he said, holding the paper up. "Space is actually curved, not flat, but never mind. When you create a wormhole..."

He stabbed the pen through the paper, leaving behind a small hole in the middle of the sheet.

"You're creating damage to the surrounding space-time. Most of which, by the way, won't repair itself. Make enough of them..." he jabbed the paper several more times, until the sheet more closely resembled a ragged doily.

"I get it, I get it," Sam held up his hands in a pleading gesture. "They're turning outer space into a Swiss cheese."

"It's a little worse than that." Selvig's normally serene expression was grim. "Artificially created wormholes are inherently unstable. They will collapse on their own in a matter of seconds. But with all such events, feedback loops are possible. These people - whoever they are - could potentially open a black hole that doesn't close right away, and as a result, sucks in all the matter closest to it - including the Earth."

"Okay, so, bad, then."

"Maria, can you get a triangulation on the source?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah, yeah, just - give me a minute." The young woman was visibly seething with irritation.

Wanda touched Natasha's shoulder. "If the wormhole didn't come from outer space, then who is responsible for creating it?" she asked.

"I was wondering the same thing myself," Natasha admitted. "It has to be a fairly short list. It's not just a matter of skill sets. You need an incredible amount of energy to open a wormhole - maybe even more than the entire output of a nuclear reactor."

"How about, the power output for an entire city?" Maria looked up from the workstation.

"Did you find something?" Natasha asked hopefully.

"It just so happens, the source for the transmission is coming from a nuclear power station near the Sokovian border," Maria informed them. "Barely fifteen kilometers from a city that's no longer there."

Every one in the room stiffened at the news, but Wanda in particular was aghast. All the blood drained from her face in a matter of seconds.

"All that power, and nowhere to send it," Maria said grimly. "Right next to one of the largest craters on earth."

"Damn," Sam swore softly.

"Best guess?" Natasha asked Maria.

"Without more to go on, I'd say we're looking at another HYDRA cell. Probably one of Strucker's lieutenants. Before S.H.I.E.L.D. folded, there was plenty of evidence that suggested other cells were still in operation in that region of the world. But when half the world's people suddenly go missing, seeking out the remnants of a terrorist organization kind of fell out of the priority list."

"I think that task has moved right back to the top of the list now," Natasha said grimly.

"Agreed. I'll start checking to see if anyone known to have been possessed by the Tesseract has had any recent movement within Sokovian borders."

"I think we can skip that step," Natasha decided. "We have a location. The bad guys, whoever they are, are there. And they likely have Dr. Foster and Miss Lewis with them. So let's go pay them a visit."

"What do they want with Jane?" Selvig asked.

"What?" Natasha seemed surprised by the question.

"Jane's an astrophysicist. What possible use could terrorists have, for someone like her?"

Natasha and Maria exchanged troubled glances. "I think we're back to our first theory," Natasha answered. "It's Thor they're really after."

"And they think Jane's the person most likely to be able to help them find him."

"And when they find him, what do they do with him?" Sam objected. "If they tried to start anything with Thor, he would just hammer all their useless butts into the ground and not even break a sweat."

"Let's worry about motives later," Natasha decided. "Our primary goal is to find Jane and Darcy and rescue them. We'll be able to find out what the real game plan is, when we have eyes in the sky and boots on the ground." She turned to Sam. "Is Redwing ready?"

"I programmed him before you picked me up," Sam assured her. "He's ready for active duty."

"How about Sandy's power reserves?" Natasha asked Maria. "Does she have enough for a quick hop to Sokovia?"

"I'll check," Maria answered. "But we should be in good shape. We were flying in direct sunlight most of the way here. As long as her capacitors are working normally, we should have more than enough juice not only to fly to Sokovia, but to make a quick getaway as well."

"Sounds perfect. Five minutes, people. Pit stops, coffee, ammo, grab whatever you need. As Tony would say, it's time to work for a living."

Sam sprinted away, in the direction of the hangar where Sandy was parked. Wanda also turned to go, but Natasha touched her on the shoulder.

"You okay?"

The younger woman managed a strained smile. "I will be," she vowed.

"Okay." Natasha paused, and then added softly in Russian, "I'm always here for you."

Wanda's smile warmed. "And I for you," she answered, also in Russian. Then she hurried away.

Natasha glanced over at Maria. She had not yet risen from her seat, but was staring at the console with a pained expression on her face.

"Everything all right?" Natasha asked.

Maria gave her an embarrassed smile, almost a grimace. "No, I'm fine, really. I -" she paused for a moment. "I was just thinking, I said a bad word, and Steve wasn't here to scold me for it." She sighed sadly. "I really, really wish he was still here, to tell me to watch my language."

For a moment, the practiced stoicism of the soldier dropped away, and Maria's face reflected the true pain and sorrow she was feeling. Natasha recognized the look only too well. She saw that same expression every morning when she looked in the mirror. She put a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Tell you what," she suggested in a quiet voice. "Let's go rescue our friends, kick the asses of the bad guys responsible, and then knock back a couple of beers in celebration."

Maria discreetly wiped a tear away. "Sounds great," she agreed. "Maybe a couple of bottles of wine, too?"

"Whatever you're drinking, I'm buying."

"See? I knew you'd make a good team leader." Maria was rapidly rebuilding her emotional defenses and even managed a smile. Natasha turned to Selvig.

"Erik, we'll be back as soon as we can," she told him. "Hopefully, along with Jane and Darcy, safe and well."

"I know you will," Selvig answered, with complete conviction.

"I wish I shared your confidence," Natasha confided. "Just like everyone else, we're kind of working in reduced circumstances these days."

Selvig almost snorted with derision. "Poppycock," he declared. "Thor would never have chosen you as his allies if he didn't think you were worthy. I can say that for certain, because I happen to know Thor personally. You don't need the God of Thunder standing beside you, in order to be Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Each of you has earned that designation on your own merits - and come by it honestly. You put your lives on the line, more times than I can count, defending the Earth. You _are_ the Avengers. Never forget that."

Natasha glanced over at Maria, who just grinned back in response. "Don't let Wanda hear you say that. She's got her heart set on renaming the team."

"To what, pray tell?"

"The Black Widows."

Selvig made a face. "That's a terrible name!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah," Natasha agreed with a laugh. "But on the other hand, I used that name for years, and it actually helped me quite a bit. It gave me a reputation that preceded me. One that said, don't mess with me - if you know what's good for you."

"You have that advantage already," Selvig said solemnly. "Trust me, the bad guys already know who you are. And you can be certain - they _are_ afraid of you."

Impulsively, Natasha leaned in and left a kiss on the old man's cheek.

"See you soon," she whispered. Then she and Maria sprinted away, to join their friends and fly off to the field of battle.


	7. Chapter 7

It took Sandy barely an hour to reach the Sokovian border; but instead of proceeding directly to the possible source of the wormhole, Natasha ordered the craft be put down in an isolated patch of forest six kilometers south of the site.

"Sam requested some target practice before we get started," she explained to her teammates as they exited the car. "Also, according to the maps, there's a high ridge due east of the nuclear power station. If HYDRA agents really have taken over the site, they'll have sentries posted. They'd see us coming a mile away."

"That's assuming they don't have a small force with a limited number of men," Maria pointed out.

Natasha shrugged. "Whoever is responsible, they've got enough resources to open wormholes," she countered. "I'm betting they have at least a couple of guards." She turned to Sam. "Once we're done here, we should be close enough for you and Redwing to fly a quick recon."

Sam nodded in approval. "Six clicks shouldn't take too long," he mused. "Twenty minutes, there and back."

"Just make sure you and Redwing stay out of sight," Natasha cautioned. "If we have any element of surprise at all, I'd like to keep it."

Maria frowned. "You don't think Erik's lab was bugged, do you?"

Natasha shook her head. "I can't swear to it, but I'd doubt it. Dr. Foster makes her reservations for scientific facilities months in advance, and she's not military; her travel arrangements are not generally considered classified intel."

"Maybe they should be," Maria suggested grimly.

"Yeah, with Thor being her boyfriend and all, it wouldn't hurt for her to have a little extra security," Sam added.

"Are you kidding? After the fuss she raised last time?" Natasha grinned. "Coulson hustled her off to a secure location when the Chitauri invaded. He _still_ hasn't heard the end of it. I'm guessing she's been offered special security arrangements on more than one occasion, and declined them all."

Natasha crossed to the boot of the vehicle and opened the hatch. "Okay. Play with toys time," she announced. "So, from what Pepper described to me, these repulsor cannons won't be strong enough to actually kill someone." She pulled one of the gauntlets out of the boot and slipped it onto her wrist. "But they should be more than capable of knocking any bad guys silly."

"You sound disappointed," Wanda grinned.

Natasha made a face. "Remember what I said, people. We're not a strike force. If at all possible, we want to sneak in and out, without being detected."

She aimed the cannon at a mature tree a few yards away. "Okay. Lowest setting," she announced, and discharged the weapon. The cannon fire was virtually noiseless, and the tree shuddered only slightly.

"Not bad," Natasha decided. "Let's try the highest setting." She fired the cannon again, as before, close to the base of the trunk. The cannon made a soft, pulsing hiccup as it discharged. The tree shuddered violently this time, and dropped a fair number of leaves and seed pods. There was a noticeable circular dent in the bark. Natasha nodded in satisfaction.

"That will do," she declared. She took out two other gauntlets and handed them to Sam. "Get practicing."

"We're not going to have any other weapons besides these?"

"You and Maria both have sidearms," Natasha answered. "You can take them, at your own discretion. I've got my widow stings. If anybody decides to get testy with us, we'll just have Wanda turn them inside out."

Natasha's expression was utterly humorless; it was impossible to tell if she was joking or not. She handed her gauntlet to Maria, who slipped it onto her right wrist, hefting it experimentally. "It barely weighs anything at all," she marveled. "How long before it runs out of juice?"

"Pepper said, with constant discharge, up to six hours."

"Another good reason to avoid a prolonged combat scenario."

"Exactly," Natasha agreed grimly. "Wanda, you too," she added. "I know you won't be carrying one with you. But in case of emergency, you should know how to fire one."

Wanda nodded reluctantly, but did as she was told. Sam and Maria also practiced using just one repulsor, with their sidearms in their opposite hand - but with the safeties locked, and no fingers on the triggers. Once they had enough practice where everyone felt comfortable, Sam dug deeper into the hatch and retrieved his flight harness.

"We've got only about two hours to sundown, and no cloud cover," he observed. "Your call, boss. You want me and Redwing in the air right now? Or after dark?"

"Can you approach the location from due west?" Natasha asked hopefully. "Maybe stay hidden in the glare of the sun as it sets?"

"Sure, but that leaves a blind spot on my six. And it might put some extra flare in Redwing's cameras, if he pans anywhere but east."

"I could go with you," Wanda suggested.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What, you want me to carry you?"

"Don't be silly," Wanda laughed. "To watch your back. I can fly."

"You can fly," Sam repeated, not quite believing. "Of course you can. Duh. Is there anything you _can't_ do?"

"I can't play the piano," Wanda grinned. "Yet."

Sam looked over at Natasha questioningly.

"Wanda, are you sure about this?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah. Absolutely."

"Sam, are you good with having some company?"

"Don't mind at all."

"Okay, then. Wanda, once you're airborne, you follow Sam's orders to the letter. No questions and no backtalk. Understood?"

"Understood," Wanda nodded solemnly.

"Check your earpieces. Make sure you've got good audio."

"I'll want to plug Redwing's cameras into Sandy's main console," Sam added. "So you can see what we see, as it happens. Before we get to the site, I'll put Redwing in stealth mode - no running lights, and only air jets for maneuvering."

Natasha nodded her assent, and a few minutes later, Sam and Wanda prepared to depart. Natasha pulled Wanda aside and murmured a few parting words in Russian. As she did so, she raised one hand and gently stroked Wanda's cheek. The younger woman clasped Natasha's hand in her own, and murmured a few words in reply, also in Russian. The whole exchange was so tender, so intimate, that Maria felt the need to turn her eyes away.

"All right, recruit, ready to enter the field?" Sam asked Wanda, when she and Natasha had separated.

"Sam, I told you, you can stop calling me 'recruit'," Wanda made a face.

"Yeah, well, on this mission, you treat me like I'm still your drill sergeant," Sam admonished. "Tasha wants us both back here in one piece. And we're gonna oblige. Right?"

"Right," Wanda affirmed vigorously.

"Okay. Let's roll." Sam adjusted his goggles, extended the wings on his flight harness and rose smoothly into the air. Wanda took in a deep breath, extended her arms with her palms facing downwards, and a moment later she also rose silently into the air, invisibly propelled by the mystical energies she alone controlled.

Maria shook her head in bemusement, watching them disappear into the early evening sky. "She scares me, that one," she confessed.

Natasha gave her friend a sympathetic glance. "Wanda's one of the sweetest people I've ever met," she answered. "And she _is_ on our side."

"I know," Maria nodded. "But that girl almost single-handedly destroyed the Avengers. I'd never want to be on her bad side."

"I'm not sure she has a bad side," Natasha mused thoughtfully.

When Maria gave her a disbelieving stare, Natasha quickly added, "When Ultron first brainwashed Wanda into trying to take over the world, he tapped into her pain and her fear - and she had a lot of both. She had legitimate grievances, no one would have blamed her for lashing out. But when it came time to actually carry out those plans - to do real, lasting harm to others - she balked. She turned on Ultron, and joined the Avengers. Even now, the whole idea of hurting another person, under any circumstances, really bothers her." Natasha's expression turned wistful. "And I would give anything, do anything, to keep her that innocent," she declared sadly. "Forever."

"You two seem very close," Maria observed.

Natasha smiled, casting her eyes downward shyly. "Fury likes to joke that we adopted each other. I guess maybe we have. We do have a lot in common - both our governments experimented on us, trying to turn us into the perfect operatives." She shook her head as if to clear it, not wanting to revive old, painful memories. "Come on, let's turn on the monitors," she suggested. "I want to see everything as soon as they're on site."

They settled themselves into the bucket seats in the cabin, and within moments, an image - slightly blurred, but still discernible - displayed on the screen. The nuclear power station appeared almost unchanged, but surrounding it was a hastily-constructed perimeter fence, cobbled together with irregular stretches of barbed wire, wood planking and cinderblock, monitored by just a handful of guards. At the north end of the complex, two oversized Quonset huts - obviously not part of the original installation - flanked a large parabolic antenna dish, something far too massive for simple Earth-based or satellite communications. The dish was easily as large as any used by the world's leading radio astronomy observatories.

Maria whistled low. "Damn. Someone's been busy."

"Falcon to base, do you copy?" Sam's voice crackled over the intercom.

"We read you, Falcon, go ahead," Natasha confirmed.

"As you can see, there's a little extracurricular activity taking place here at the power station."

"Yeah, no kidding. We're only seeing maybe a dozen guards manning the perimeter, can you confirm? And verify type of weapons?"

"I can't enlarge the main image for you, but that count is accurate, and none of the guards have any automatic weapons, at least not that I can see," Sam reported. "Mostly just rifles and sidearms. And only a couple have any sort of body armor."

"Does Redwing concur?"

"If they've got any munitions, they must be stored inside the buildings. But I doubt it. They're spread way too thin for an operation of this size, both in manpower and firepower. Redwing is not detecting any sort of energy barrier, either. That fence is all they've got for the perimeter."

"Good news for us," Maria discreetly crossed her fingers.

"Maybe they really _are_ working on a shoestring budget," Natasha murmured.

"And all the money is in the dish?"

"We can only hope."

"Lots of heat signatures in the two huts near the dish," Sam reported. "About a hundred in all. The reactor facility itself is shielded. Redwing's scans can't penetrate, but even if he could, heat signatures would probably be useless scanning the interior of a nuclear reactor."

"Understood," Natasha responded.

"Not all of those can be soldiers," Maria ventured. "At least some of them have to be technicians who are keeping the reactor stable."

Natasha sighed. "Well, it could be worse," she allowed. "When we took out Strucker's complex, he was barricaded in an honest-to-goodness castle, surrounded by a force field and an entire army, complete with tanks and heat-seeking missiles."

"You can't see this on your view, but I mark two machine gun nests," Sam continued his report. "One on the east ridge, just like you expected, and another on the opposite side of the complex in a mole-hole bunker. Both are protecting any direct approach to the antenna dish."

"Then that's where we'll find Dr. Foster," Natasha mused aloud. "They certainly won't have her in the reactor complex, coming up with cold fusion equations. Are the heat signatures equally divided between the two huts?"

"Just about. And no, no way to tell any of them apart. Sorry."

Natasha could not conceal a grimace of irritation. "Damn."

"They might be depending on natural barriers to help protect them," Wanda's voice broke in. "They've got nothing but sheer rock cliffs and thick forest all around them in every direction."

"Makes sense," Maria nodded. "Any nuclear facility would be staged at a safe distance from the city drawing its power. They might be hoping they're in too remote a location for a direct assault."

"Falcon, do you spot any place near the facility to lay low?" Natasha asked.

"There's a cliff just north of the reactor, with a wide ledge and an overhang," Sam answered. "There's no direct view of the facility - but, they can't see us, either."

"Okay. You and Wanda head there, fast as you can. Maria and I will be in the air in less than a minute. We'll park Sandy about a kilometer out, then make our way to you on foot. We don't want to alert anyone to our presence if we don't have to."

"Copy that."

"We'll call back when we're back on ground. Base out."

Maria looked over at Natasha, her face lined with worry. "Regardless of who it is, if these people really are opening wormholes all over creation, we can't just stop at rescuing Jane Foster. We have to shut them down."

"Agreed," Natasha nodded grimly. "And we've got all of a three minute plane ride to figure out how we're going to do that. Sandy, get us in the air," she ordered the AI. "Home in on Sam's signal. But give the power station a wide berth. We want to stay out of radar range - assuming they're scanning for air traffic."

"Understood," Sandy answered calmly.

Natasha sighed heavily. "Looks like it's time to save the world," she declared. "Again."

"Yeah," Maria agreed, and then she gave her friend a wicked grin. "But we're so good at it."

Natasha managed an answering smile as Sandy launched herself and her teammates into the darkening sky.


	8. Chapter 8

A few minutes later, Natasha and her teammates were making last-minute adjustments to their combat gear, while reviewing a large screen projection of the power plant, courtesy of Redwing's cameras.

"Sam, you and Wanda will need to take out those machine gun nests," Natasha said tersely, adjusting one of the wrist gauntlets containing her widow stings.

"So much for sneaking in, huh?" Sam made one last check of his sidearm and holstered it. "You sure we don't want to recruit some more help for this op?"

Natasha sighed sadly. "We don't have time, Sam."

"It's the four of us against maybe a hundred soldiers," Sam pointed out. "Even without automatic weapons, those aren't good odds, boss."

"No. They're not. So we need to even the odds as much as possible."

"I could warp the roofs of the nests," Wanda suggested. "Make them collapse, crush the gun muzzles before they have a chance to fire."

"Can you do that, and keep yourself out of firing range?" Natasha asked.

"We can," Sam answered for her. "We stick to the air. I can draw fire, send a few repulsor cannon shots in the compound. Get the goons looking somewhere else. Those nests are protection against ground forces. They can't aim any higher than eight, ten feet, tops. Wanda can swoop in behind me and close them off."

"As soon as we do that, we could have soldiers swarming the compound like fire ants," Maria said grimly.

"Maybe. But even if that happens, I think if Wanda and I stick to air assault, we can keep them busy," Sam replied. "Best case, they only have the guards we can see. Worse case, we have more soldiers in the bunkers; when they swarm, we dive bomb and retreat."

"We can't just keep them occupied, Sam. If this is going to work, we have to take people out." Natasha hated saying those words. She knew it, and everyone on her team knew it. But there was no escaping the cold logic.

Sam responded matter-of-factly. "Understood, boss." He carefully adjusted one of the repulsor cannons on his wrist.

"That still leaves us with two bunkers to breach," Maria reminded Natasha. "And no indication which one Doctor Foster might be in."

"Maybe there is," Natasha said thoughtfully, peering at the large hologram projecting from Redwing's camera. "The hut on the left appears to have a set of cables running out to the dish. Assuming that's the control cabin, it's more likely we'll find Jane and Darcy there."

"And if it's not?"

Natasha shrugged. "Only one other bunker to choose."

"Give us a couple of minutes, before you and Maria enter the compound," Sam suggested. "If there really are more combatants in those huts, maybe Wanda and I can draw them out, leave you with just a skeleton crew to deal with."

Natasha and Maria exchanged glances. "Makes sense," Maria nodded.

"All right," Natasha agreed reluctantly. "Strafing runs only. Don't make yourselves a target."

"Actually, we could use Redwing as a decoy, if we need one," Sam said.

Maria frowned. "Redwing's not armed."

"No, but the goons won't know that, will they? And he does have armor plating. He can take hits and draw fire, while the rest of us target our attacks in his wake."

"God bless Tony Stark," Maria murmured softly. She realized her teammates were staring at her incredulously. "Uhh... yeah. Don't ever tell him I said that," she added sheepishly.

"What about the techs who run the plant?" Wanda asked.

"That's a very good question," Natasha admitted. "They're either in league with the bad guys, or working for them under duress. And we won't know for sure which is which, until we get in there."

"Maybe so, but my money says they're non-combatants," Sam declared. "I just don't see your average nuclear physicist also being a grunt soldier."

"I agree, Sam, but we have to assume every target is a hostile," Natasha decided. "Everyone except for Jane and Darcy. One other thing. Once we're inside the facility itself, tread soft. We don't know what kind of tech we're dealing with here. We don't want this whole compound going up in our faces."

"Best case, if they have only a dozen perimeter guards, then Wanda and I can take one bunker, while you and Maria take the other," Sam offered.

"Agreed. But let's assume worse case. You and Wanda will have to flank to keep the guards as far away from the bunkers as possible."

"Understood."

Natasha glanced over at Maria. "I sure hope you haven't let your hand-to-hand combat skills go rusty," she said only half-jokingly. "I think we're going to need them tonight."

Maria made a face. "Please. I have two older brothers, and they've been keeping me on my toes since before I could walk," she declared. "Trust me. I still know how to hit someone where it hurts."

Natasha grinned. "I believe you."

She leaned over and shut off the holographic display. "Okay, people. First priority is to secure the compound. Endgame is to find Doctor Foster and Miss Lewis, and free them."

"What about the wormhole-making-thingie?" Wanda asked. "We have to shut that down somehow."

Natasha sighed. "I know. And unfortunately, none of us have the skills to do that. We have to hope there's someone in the compound who can do that for us, given the right persuasion." She straightened herself and regarded her teammates somberly. "If things go south, fall back to Sandy's location, one click due north from this ledge. I hope it won't come to that, but if the heat's too much, we have Sandy fly us out of immediate danger, and then put in a distress call to Nick Fury. S.H.I.E.L.D. may not exist any more, but he can still find a response team large enough to take this place out."

"But by then, the bad guys could have carried out whatever it is they're planning," Maria sighed.

"Exactly. So let's keep things pointing north as long as possible." She reached over and took Wanda's hands into her own. "And _you_ ..."

"What?" Wanda snorted. "You're not going to remind _them_ they're not bulletproof, too?"

The younger woman was smiling, but she did seem genuinely annoyed.

"They already know they're not," Natasha retorted, and then she gave the girl she had come to regard as her baby sister a tender look. "I can't let anything happen to you," she almost whispered. "I'd go to pieces. You need to keep yourself safe, Wanda."

The words came blurting out of Natasha, she couldn't stop them. In the past, she would never have dared admit any such vulnerability, especially not so publicly. But she was unable to stop herself. Wanda's eyes went wide as she realized just how much of Natasha's true feelings had been completely exposed by her confession. Natasha squeezed the girl's hands tightly.

"So while you're with Sam, you follow his orders, to the letter. Everyone comes home safe from this mission. Understood?"

"Understood," Wanda answered, her eyes shining with love and admiration.

"Besides," Natasha added, recovering herself, "I promised Nick Fury we'd have a party when we got back. So stay sharp, and let's get the job done. We have a celebration to plan."

"What?" Sam immediately feigned total indignation. "Y'all are planning a party, and you didn't invite the rest of us?!"

"You're _all_ invited," Natasha declared with a grin, still clasping Wanda's hands. "And I'm buying."

"Can't wait," Maria grinned back.

Natasha gave Wanda one last smile, then released her. "All right, saddle up, people. Sam, Wanda, fly us in low. Drop Maria and I at the north end of the compound. Then fly over the nests and take them out. Raise as much of a ruckus as you can."

"Copy that," Sam declared, reaching out his hand to take Natasha's.

As they soared aloft into the now nearly-dark sky, Natasha grimaced to herself. _Head in the game, Romanoff. Your team's counting on you. Focus on the job._

But on the short flight to the perimeter fence, Natasha could not keep her mind from wandering back to the offhand remark Maria had made a few moments before. Natasha realized sadly that for all the years she'd worked alongside Maria Hill, this was the first time - ever - that the former deputy director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had mentioned any member of her family, even in passing. She'd never talked about the people closest to her, and Natasha had never asked. During most of the time they'd known each other, Natasha and Maria were in the business of espionage, in one form or another. Secrets were meant to be kept. But, whatever this team was now, Natasha and her teammates were no longer in the business of keeping anyone's secrets - not for the military, not for the state, and certainly not from each other. Natasha vowed silently to herself that when this mission was over, she was going to get to know Maria Hill - not just as a colleague, but as a friend, even as family. How many people had Maria lost, when half the world disappeared? She never said. And someone needed to ask. Natasha owed her that. She owed them all that.

And then, just like that, Sam tapped her arm, signaling he was dropping her; Natasha fell into a rolling crouch so she could come up on her feet as soon as she cleared the fence. _Eyes up, Romanoff,_ she told herself as the ground rushed up to meet her. The rescue mission was underway.


	9. Chapter 9

To their credit, the guards were aware almost immediately that the perimeter had been breached. Natasha and Maria found themselves pinned down by a hail of gunfire almost from the moment their feet touched the ground. There were only two guards within firing range, on a raised gangplank some ten feet above the ground; and each carried only a rifle and a pistol apiece, forcing them to use shotgun protocol. Natasha realized were firing blind in the general direction where they'd seen the women land. There was no lighting on the ground, and the firing spread suggested the guards had no infrared lenses for their weapons. They were hoping by luck to hit a target. Maria took careful assessment of their positions, and the moment there was even the briefest, split-second delay in the assault, she raised herself up on one knee, pulled her service revolver from its holster and calmly dropped the first guard, then pivoted to take out the other. The men fell from the platform, landing with a soft thud in the thick grass at the edge of the fence. _Two shots, two kills,_ Natasha noted with appreciation, and Maria didn't even seem fazed. The former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was known to be cool under fire, but Natasha had never foxholed with Maria in a combat situation before now. She was suddenly very glad she had taken Nick Fury up on his recommendation. In the rapidly dimming twilight, and without visual aid, Maria had taken out two hostiles in the time it took to draw a breath.

The alarm had been raised, however. Male voices could be heard shouting all around them, in a dialect Natasha couldn't quite make out. Possibly Sokovian, but there was no way to be certain. An alarm klaxon at the other end of the compound began to warble urgently. Floodlights came on across the grounds - fortunately, nowhere near where the two women were crouching. They were partially shielded by the new structures that had gone up with no regard to the power station's original security apparatus, leaving them - for the moment - in deep shadow.

No other guards were close to them, and as long as they remained near the rear of the building, they might remain undetected. In the distance, there was a single burst of automatic weapons fire that was abruptly silenced. Natasha could only hope that meant that Sam and Wanda had been successful in their first attack. Her hopes were realized a moment later, when Wanda's breathless voice crackled over her earpiece.

"Scarlet Witch to Widow. East nest down. West still active. Multiple hostiles in play on the ground."

In the darkness, Natasha allowed herself a faint smile. Wanda was certainly imprinting on Sam, starting to mimic his lingo and mannerisms. However, while Wanda's report was good news, it also signaled that Natasha and Maria were far from safe, and their positions liable to be exposed at any minute. The two women crawled forward silently, side by side, through the tall grass towards the dark end of the Quonset hut. Maria kept her sidearm in hand as they advanced. There was no weapons fire that Natasha could hear coming from the west, although she could still hear several men shouting, and those shouts were getting much closer. She hoped that meant all the guards - including the gunners in the machine gun nests - were checking to verify targets before firing. The building they faced had neither entrance nor window; the single entrance they sought was on the opposite side, facing the reactor complex. Although Natasha and Maria could certainly try to make their way between the two huts, Natasha preferred to go around the outside; although that route left them more exposed, it also meant much less chance of being caught in a crossfire, without an escape route. But reaching the front end of the hut meant that the remaining machine gun nest had to be neutralized before they could even think of making the attempt. They would have to cross directly in front of its firing range.

"Why isn't the other nest firing?" Maria whispered urgently in the darkness, as if echoing Natasha's thoughts.

In the distance, they could hear repulsor cannons firing, in staccato discharge, and this was followed by another answering barrage of weapons fire, still mostly pistols and rifles. Apparently Sam was beginning the next strafing run. A brief burst of machine gun fire from somewhere to their right was as abruptly silenced as the first. But the other weapons continued to fire at irregular intervals, and the hoarse shouting continued, as the guards tried desperately to lock onto their targets.

Natasha and Maria exchanged a worried glance, barely able to see each other's faces in the near total darkness.

"So much for the element of surprise," Maria muttered under her breath.

Natasha's earpiece crackled again; this time it was Sam. "Falcon to Widow. Both nests down. Ants are swarming."

"Copy," Natasha answered, trying to keep her voice as low as possible. Sam's message meant that Natasha and Maria had to lay low a few moments more, while Sam and Wanda tried to draw off as many of the guards as possible to the opposite side of the compound. And after a few moments, it was obvious that the gunfire and the shouting was slowly receding into the distance.

Maria regarded the repulsor cannon on her right wrist with a frown. "Think this thing could blast a hole in the wall?" she whispered.

"Maybe," Natasha whispered back. "But it'll make too much noise." She pointed towards the wall facing the west side, indicating they should advance there. Maria nodded silently in agreement. Getting to their feet, but staying in a low crouch, the two women slowly edged their way to the corner. Once they turned, they would be exposed in the harsh glare of the floodlights.

Natasha decided to risk a quick glance around the corner. She peeked out, seeing that the side of the hut was clear of any guards. There were none to be seen on the makeshift walkway that lined the perimeter fence, either. The machine gun nest looked like it had been crumpled by a giant fist, the exposed muzzles of the guns bent sharply to the sides, making them unusable.

 _Good work, Wanda,_ Natasha sighed in relief. She raised herself up from her crouch, still not quite standing upright, and nodded to Maria to do the same. For the moment, the path ahead was clear. All the shouting and gunfire was taking place somewhere on the opposite side of the reactor complex. Stepping out into the glare of the floodlights, Natasha began an impressively quick sprint to the front end of the Quonset hut, with Maria close behind. When they reached the next corner, Natasha held up a warning hand, indicating she meant to check if all was clear around the next corner.

She came face-to-face with a burly guard, whose eyes went wide in surprise at seeing her. Before he could call out, Natasha aimed a lightning-quick strike at the man's throat. He choked and gagged at the sudden blow, but still tried to raise his weapon. Natasha sent a widow sting deep into the man's exposed neck, and he crumpled instantly. Natasha caught him, breaking his fall; she didn't want any sound to alert whoever was inside. This man was apparently the only guard at the entrance.

She was about to step over the body to the opposite side of the door, to cover Maria, when the taller woman grabbed Natasha's arm and silently pointed at the sleeve of the man's uniform. The armband carried the HYDRA insignia.

 _Well, at least now we know who we're fighting,_ Natasha thought grimly to herself. She knelt down, taking the man's sidearm, checked to make sure the safety was off, then positioned herself to provide cover for Maria. Maria nodded, and together they rushed the door, weapons drawn. As they stepped inside the entryway, they found themselves surrounded by at least a dozen soldiers - all looking directly at the two of them. Natasha and Maria exchanged a look of utter dismay.

* * *

At the south end of the complex, near the reactor facility entrance, the pitched battle was nearly ended. Sam had sent Redwing diving into the ranks of the guards over and over, drawing their fire. These soldiers clearly had little experience with air attacks, as they consistently concentrated their fire on the first target, leaving Sam and Wanda free to swoop in from behind and pick them off, one by one. The few soldiers canny enough to try to alert their fellows to the strategy were quickly dispatched. Wanda couldn't use her ability to warp perceptions to good advantage in this situation; she couldn't get close enough to any one target to establish a mind lock. So she simply used her mystical energy to forcibly bend gun barrels and muzzles out of shape, then body-slammed the bewildered soldiers holding the weapons with a blast of that same energy. It was hardly an elegant strategy, but it was effective. Sam found the repulsor cannons worked beautifully as an offensive weapon; strong enough to knock a man off his feet, and more often than not, leaving the target stunned or unconscious. Redwing, now smoking and wobbling from acting as a constant bullet stop, spiraled slowly to the ground, its gears grinding audibly; but the drone's main mission was completed successfully. The gunfire had ceased and none of the bodies on the ground were moving. Cautiously, Sam and Wanda landed near the double doors that indicated the reactor entrance.

Sam indicated silently by gesture that he meant to look inside, and that Wanda should post herself as sentry. She nodded in understanding. Sam tried the one of the doors, it was not locked. After a quick visual inspection to confirm that the foyer was empty, he slipped inside while Wanda stood just outside the front entrance. The alarm klaxon was much louder here; Wanda wished she had a set of earplugs. But limiting her hearing was perhaps not the best option. The klaxon was only loud enough to be grating; it would not cause any lasting damage to her eardrums. She surveyed the grounds carefully, now easily seen under the bright floodlights. No motion anywhere. She and Sam had prevailed.

"I am _so_ bullet proof," she sniffed disdainfully.

Wanda started to turn her line of sight back towards the east, to visually inspect that flank again, when a large, dirty hand clamped over her mouth, and another hand bent one of her wrists back painfully. Apparently not all the guards had been dealt with, after all. A husky male voice growled in her ear.

"Witch, you so much as _wiggle_ a finger -"

The man had no opportunity to finish his threat, as Wanda yelped in alarm as a repulsor cannon fired point-blank into the man's face, scant inches from the back of Wanda's head. As the guard fell into a heap, Wanda cringed at the sudden sound and atmospheric pressure. Sam was staring at her, exiting the doorway, an expression of grave displeasure on his face. He lowered his arm, the repulsor cannon still glowing slightly from its last discharge. He stepped over to where the young woman stood shaking from fright, and leaned over to murmur in her ear.

"Wanda," he admonished her sternly, "You need to watch your six."

"I know. I'm sorry. Thanks."

"I can't babysit you, recruit. Not here. Not now."

"I understand, Sam," Wanda pleaded in a plaintive voice. "Was anyone inside?"

Sam shook his head. "The blast doors are down. If anyone's in there, they're not getting out until the alarms are shut off."

"So, we can't inspect the reactor at all."

"No. Which means, we go see if Tasha and Maria need any help."

"You - you won't tell Natasha, will you?"

"Tell her what?"

Wanda sighed with relief. "Thank you, Sam."

* * *

The very first thing Natasha Romanoff had learned when becoming a spy was, conflict was always the avenue of last resort. The act of espionage was to gather reliable intel against another person's will or intent, and preferably without detection. Combat of any type precluded that opportunity almost exclusively.

Natasha had been trained to fight, of course. She knew how to fire almost any sort of gun imaginable. And she had spent years learning various techniques and methods of hand to hand combat. For all of that expertise, Natasha was not a soldier. But she was a spy, with all the connotations that word suggested: a plant, a mole, a confidant, a seductress; ultimately, a betrayer of trusts - and, when occasion demanded, an assassin.

One of the most valuable pieces of advice she'd ever been given was, understand that your opponent will, almost always, be larger and stronger than you. Acknowledge that disadvantage honestly. Plan for it. Compensate effectively for it. In Natasha's case, this was almost always true: at five feet, two inches, she towered over almost no one; and she seldom outweighed any of her opponents, either. She couldn't rely on sheer brute strength or muscle to carry her through a fight. She had to be fast, she had to be precise, and above all, she had to be vicious.

As Natasha moved through a throng of armed men who easily outweighed her by forty kilos or more, she already knew how to pinpoint her strikes for most effectiveness - a jab at an exposed armpit here, a well-placed kick at the underside of a knee there. Raking her nails across a man's eyes would blind him just long enough to land another, more effective, blow somewhere else. These men only had a fraction of the normal armor that a well-equipped soldier might have, for which Natasha was immensely grateful. It meant her widow stings found easy marks, passing through thin cloth and embedding in soft skin. But she didn't dare stop moving for a second. One solid blow to her face or midsection might bring her down for good. The best solution: don't get hit. She leapfrogged one man, clamped her thighs around another's neck as she swung herself around - not enough to cause lasting harm, but enough to leave a neck sprain that would temporarily temporarily disable him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the briefest glimpse of Maria Hill, shrieking with fury, striking out with impressive speed and energy: she was bringing up one knee into the groin of the soldier directly in front of her, while landing a vicious elbow to the throat of another man trying to grab her from behind, then - blink - she was gone, and Natasha found yet another soldier in her immediate field of vision.

All these men were armed, but none of them were firing their weapons. That only reinforced Natasha's belief that whatever tech they were protecting was far too valuable to be damaged, and they couldn't afford even one nick from a stray gunshot. Maria had not used her sidearm once since the fight started. Her gun remained safely in its holster. And she was using the repulsor cannon sparingly, only when she was sure she had a shot that would leave her opponent unconscious. _Whatever evens the odds,_ Natasha thought grimly to herself, as she managed to kick out behind her, the heel of her boot connecting solidly with another soldier's nose.

The fight was winding down; Natasha could actually take a split second to count the bodies still standing in her field of vision. Besides herself and Maria, there were only five men remaining - and apparently, no reinforcements charging to the rescue. They actually had a chance, albeit a slim one, to pull this off.

Then the inevitable happened. A strong hand managed to clamp onto Natasha's right wrist, bending her forearm back savagely. She yelped involuntarily with pain, not seeing the man who had grabbed her. A fist crashed against the side of her face, sending white sparks shooting across her vision, blinding her. Natasha could feel herself being physically lifted up off the floor, and then slammed into what was probably a table, knocking all the wind out of her. She tried desperately to kick out, but she was almost completely incapacitated by the savagery of the assault; she was momentarily blinded, her ears were ringing badly, and her limbs were unresponsive and rubbery - although she was reasonably sure her right arm was still being pinned down by her attacker. Unable to grab a breath, she could feel the white sparks in her eyes slipping into blackness.

 _No, no,_ Natasha gritted her teeth, fighting against sliding into unconsciousness. Failure now might mean her death. But she couldn't breathe, she couldn't see, she couldn't fight back. _Not like this,_ her mind screamed. _Not like this._

The dull roar of a repulsor cannon fired somewhere just above Natasha's head, and although she couldn't see, she immediately felt a great weight lift off her body. Apparently the soldier who was pinning her down had been literally blasted off of her. She felt herself falling onto the floor - still helpless, but after her head and side smacked against the cold concrete, she was relieved to realize she could breathe again. She was still helpless, but no one was taking advantage? The ringing in her ears made it difficult to tell, but the room seemed quiet - too quiet. Was the fight over?

A voice, a female voice, was calling her name, but it was muffled and indistinct, as if passing through multiple layers of gauze. Natasha tried to push herself up on one elbow. She was still too weak to manage it. A pair of hands slipped under her armpits and gently raised her upright so that she was now on her hands and knees.

"Natasha?"

That was Maria's voice, no doubt about it. And it was Maria's protective hand laying gently on Natasha's shoulder.

Natasha managed to weakly raise one index finger, indicating she needed a moment to recover herself. The hand stayed on her shoulder. For several moments, Natasha was only aware of her sharp intakes of breath, as her respiratory system kicked back into more or less normal operation. Sweat was pouring off her face, splashing in huge drops onto the concrete underneath. She became aware that her entire body was uncomfortably slick with sweat under her combat suit, and she felt mildly nauseated. But her vision cleared, the ringing in her ears slowly subsided, and best of all, she could feel strength returning to her shaky arms and legs. She could also hear that Maria was gasping for breath, just as she was.

Maria helped Natasha to her feet, and the two of them stood across from one another for several moments, hunched over and leaning forward, hands on knees, sucking in wind. Natasha managed to look up and see that Maria had apparently emerged from the fight intact. Like herself, sweat was literally pouring off Maria's face, and she had been gashed at least twice from a knife blade, once across the right cheek, once across the upper left thigh; but both wounds were superficial. Apparently Maria had been lucky enough - or good enough - to make sure the owner of the knife only managed to graze her. She didn't appear to have any other injuries.

Natasha looked around the room almost ruefully. This wasn't the first time she had cleared out an entire room full of goons - but, she reflected, this was probably the first time that most of the goons, if not all of them, were still breathing. _I've_ _lost my edge,_ she thought bitterly. She did a quick self-assessment. Her widow stings were down to the last three cartridges. No visible wounds on her body. Her right elbow joint was incredibly sore from its recent hyperextension, but otherwise undamaged. Her left knee throbbed terribly, but she could still put weight on it. She would definitely have a nasty bruise on her jaw from the fight. But that was the extent of her liabilities. So they had won, after all.

"You okay?" Natasha gasped.

"Yeah. You?"

"I think so."

Natasha glanced at the double doors that led into the main chamber of the Quonset hut. The area in which they were standing was an anteroom or foyer of some kind.

"Huh," she grunted, clearly puzzled. "Weird."

"What is?"

"We made an awful lot of noise out here. And nobody came to see what the rumpus was."

"Maybe nobody's in there," Maria suggested, slowly straightening up, gingerly pressing the palms of her hands against her lower spine.

"Maybe," Natasha said dubiously, and then she gave her friend a wicked smile. "Shall we go see?"

Like Natasha had just done, Maria did a quick inspection to ensure that she and her weaponry were still intact and serviceable. She gingerly pressed against the cut on her thigh, satisfying herself that the wound wasn't serious. After a moment, she nodded, drawing her sidearm and releasing the safety, putting herself back into "ready" mode.

"Hold on." Natasha kneeled down beside one of the unconscious men, and removed his sidearm from its holster. She checked the magazine, found it full, and slapped it back in place.

"Good thing these boys will be out for a while. Okay," Natasha nodded, standing up. "Let's go find out what's what."

They charged the doors together, weapons drawn. They found themselves in a room lined with computer banks and consoles, most of which were apparently tied to the operation of the parabolic dish outside. Only five other people were in the room: Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis, both gagged and bound to the chairs they sat in; two guards, one beside each chair, with a pistol pointed at the hostages' heads - and one other man, short, balding and bespectacled, in a nondescript military uniform that suggested he was the operation's commandant. He was staring at Natasha and Maria in open-mouthed surprise.

"I had a dozen men out there," he said incredulously.

"Yeah. You did," Maria answered, placing deliberate emphasis on the past tense.

"But - but - those were my best men," he stammered in dismay.

"You should recruit more carefully next time," Natasha answered curtly. Her eyes scanned the room, sizing up the situation. Jane and Darcy had been trussed only a few moments ago, and apparently in great haste. Despite the fact that there was a pistol pointed at her temple, Jane Foster was struggling furiously to free herself from the ropes that held her. Jane was enraged, and Darcy was terrified. And the commander, whoever he was, had only the women's lives as his bargaining chips. Natasha had to remind herself sternly not to smile. She felt certain she could defuse this situation without a single shot being fired.

"Game's over," she declared. "Whatever it is you have planned, it ends now."

The little man in glasses hardly seemed upset. "I suppose I should congratulate you on getting this far," he admitted. "But it doesn't matter. You're still too late."

"Too late for what?" Maria asked, keeping her gun leveled at the man.

"Why, to prevent the opening of the Einstein-Rosen bridge, of course."

"A bridge to where? Asgard?"

At this suggestion, the little man literally laughed - a short, barking laugh that grated on the ears.

 _"Asgard?"_ he chortled, genuinely amused. "Do you really think _that_ was our target?"

Natasha and Maria exchanged a quick, apprehensive glance with each other.

"Where, then?"

"Why, to the home world of Earth's new ruler, of course. To Thanos."

 _"Thanos?"_ At the mere mention of the name, all the blood drained from Natasha's face. "You want to bring Thanos back _here?!"_

"Why wouldn't I?" The commander answered. "He is the leader that HYDRA has always sought. A perfect being, the personification of absolute power, who can rule absolutely."

Now, it was Maria and Natasha's turn to let their jaws drop in surprise.

"Are you out of your mind?" Maria choked, when she could get her voice back. "Were you somehow not here, when that monster wiped out half of all life on Earth?!"

"Of course I was. How else could I otherwise know of his infinite glory."

For a split-second, Natasha wished that the man was simply mad; it would mean that his declared intent had no possibility of succeeding. But from the terrified looks on the faces of Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis, she felt a far more disquieting prospect: that with Foster's help, HYDRA had in fact located Thanos' homeworld, and somehow secured the means to open a wormhole to that location.

"How did you manage it?" Natasha demanded. "You don't have an Infinity Stone."

"True, but as it happens, we didn't need one," the man shrugged. "All the necessary referents to establish a wormhole were so helpfully recorded by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s monitoring equipment - which we were able to retrieve and analyze, while S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers had their collective hands full with the Chitauri. And yes, while an Infinity Stone was used to establish the first portal here to Earth, it actually doesn't take as much energy as you might think to open one. The energy output of an abandoned nuclear reactor, as it turns out, serves quite adequately."

"Why the abduction by wormhole? What was the point of that?" Natasha couldn't have cared less about the answer; she was desperately trying to think of a way to signal Sam and Wanda without letting the HYDRA commander know.

"We were already reasonably sure that, with our own technicians, we could open a wormhole somewhere here on Earth. But we needed a practical test," the man answered. "Foster's abduction provided us with a perfect confirmation of that test. But our end goal was always to open an intergalactic bridge. That's a bit trickier than connecting to Geneva. We needed someone who was intimately familiar not only with Einstein-Rosen theory, but someone who had already spent a great deal of time searching the cosmos specifically for celestial beings. Doctor Foster was really our only choice."

He leered an oily smile at Foster, who struggled even more furiously in her chair, a string of unprintable curses muffled by the gag in her mouth.

"Of course, it was our good fortune to also capture Miss Lewis," the commander continued. "In fact, she was the key to our entire operation. Doctor Foster would never have willingly assisted us, no matter how we might threaten her directly. She is a strong and proud woman. But all we had to do was even suggest the possibility of any harm to Miss Lewis, and suddenly Doctor Foster became much more... cooperative."

Foster glared furiously at the man, deeply enraged, but Natasha noted that Darcy Lewis was staring tearfully down at the floor, deeply ashamed. _Darcy really thinks she's to blame for all this,_ Natasha thought with dismay.

"Shut it all down," she ordered. "Now. Have your men put down their weapons, and let's end this insanity before anyone else gets hurt."

The man shook his head, still chuckling. "You don't understand. This isn't like making a phone call. It requires a program. A highly complex, executable program. And it was initiated over an hour ago."

"What? Then terminate it!"

"Do you know just how far it is, to reach even the nearest galaxy, Agent Romanoff? The massive distances involved? Oh, yes, I know who you are. The so-called super spy, the infamous Black Widow. Agent for the Kremlin, then S.H.I.E.L.D., then mascot for the Avengers." He allowed himself a lewd smirk. "The location we are connecting to is a little farther than halfway to the center of the known universe. Even light takes millions of years to cover an expanse that vast. But the miracle of wormholes is, you can establish them between any two points in creation - provided you know how to establish the proper co-ordinates. For which, Doctor Foster, we shall be eternally grateful -"

As he turned slightly to leer at Foster again, Natasha shot a widow sting into the back of the man's neck. Before the guards had time to react, Maria dropped them both.

"How long were you planning to just stand there and let him flap his gums?" Maria demanded, rushing over to Darcy's chair to free her. "I thought you'd fallen asleep, or something."

"I needed to make sure you had time to take your shot," Natasha retorted, using her knife to cut the ropes binding Jane Foster.

"Oh, that's hilarious. Are you all right, Miss Lewis?"

Darcy's only response was a choked sob.

The moment Natasha freed Jane Foster, the young astrophysicist leaped from her chair, and launched herself at the control panel, frantically tapping on the keyboard.

"No, no, _no,"_ she groaned in dismay, growing ever more anxious with each moment as she scanned the display in front of her. She began to pound the keys in frustration.

"Talk to me, Doctor," Natasha pleaded.

"The program has already executed. I can't shut it down," Foster grimaced.

"What does that mean?"

"It means an intergalactic gate bridge is opening on our doorstep in a little less than two minutes," Jane Foster answered, her eyes wide with fear. "And there's nothing I can do to stop it!"


	10. Chapter 10

Sam and Wanda were sprinting back towards the north end of the complex when a deep, basso rumble stopped them in their tracks. They exchanged a worried glance with one another.

"What was that?" Wanda asked apprehensively.

"I don't know," Sam answered, and the moment he said it, the ground beneath them shuddered violently for three or four seconds, then went still.

Wanda's eyes were wide with fright. "Earthquake?"

Sam had a different suspicion - but one that worried him even more. "I don't think so."

"Then what -"

"I'm going to check something out," Sam declared, extending the wings on his flight jacket. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Let me come with you," Wanda pleaded.

"Don't _argue_ with me, recruit," Sam barked, and he seemed genuinely angry. "You stay put!"

Wanda desperately wanted to go with him, but she understood that she needed to follow orders, so against her wishes, she remained on the ground, hugging herself with worry, as Sam soared into the air.

It only took Sam a few moments to reach a high enough altitude to see the true symptom of the problem. The cooling towers at the southeast corner of the complex were venting enormous amounts of steam - nothing remotely close to normal outputs. Worse, steam was also venting, under high pressure, from foundational cracks at the base of each tower.

"Oh, shit," Sam muttered under his breath, then touched his communicator. "Tasha, we got ourselves a situation!"

"Was that what I think it was, Sam?"

"Looks like the reactor is running critical!"

Down in the Quonset hut, Natasha, Maria, Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis exchanged terrified looks with each other.

"Do any of these monitors show reactor output?" Natasha asked Jane.

"Yes, over here." The entire side wall of the hut was taken up with monitors of different types. Jane pointed out the display. "This one reports on reactor functions. But I'm sorry, I don't know how to read it, or how any of it works."

Maria slid into the chair next to the monitor and tapped in a few short strokes at the keyboard.

"Can you read this thing?" Natasha asked.

Maria didn't reply immediately, she was obviously completely focused on viewing the readouts and assessing them. A moment later she looked up at Natasha, her face very pale.

"The cooling system is not compensating for the increased power output," she reported.

"Can you fix it?"

"Not from here. This is just a workstation for monitoring the system. There's no control access. That will only be available inside the reactor facility itself."

"That's gonna be a problem," Sam's voice crackled over the radio. "We already tried to get in there. All the blast doors are shut."

"Even if we could get in there, it wouldn't make any difference," Maria pointed to the screens. "If we had more time, maybe I could figure something out. But if these displays are correct, the instability actually started several hours ago, probably when the first wormhole was opened, and no one noticed it or corrected for it then. The reactor is going to go critical less than two minutes after the next wormhole opens." She swallowed hard. "Natasha, we do NOT want to be here when that happens."

Natasha turned to Jane. "Are there any technicians inside the plant?"

"I don't know," she answered. "I don't think so. I kind of got the impression that HYDRA found this place abandoned and just took over."

"There's probably no one inside," Maria surmised. "The reactor can self-regulate, up to a point. My guess is, it was running at nominal output and was perfectly stable, until these HYDRA goons showed up and started running all their stupid wormhole experiments."

"Doctor Foster, you're sure there's absolutely no way to terminate the wormhole program?"

"No," Jane groaned in dismay. "The system is already drawing power to generate the event horizon, and the parameters -"

She broke off suddenly, as if a sudden inspiration had occurred to her; then she dashed back to her original workstation and began pounding the keys frantically.

"What are you doing?" Natasha asked, not wanting to interrupt, but needing to.

"I can't prevent the wormhole from being created, but maybe I can adjust its parameters, set it to a shorter distance, or have it open in different location," Foster answered, not taking her eyes off the display. "Make the energy demands smaller. Buy us some time."

"I don't know, maybe we should just leave it," Maria suggested to Natasha.

"Are you serious?" Natasha asked, aghast.

"Sure, why not send a nuclear bomb right to Thanos' doorstep?"

Darcy Lewis spoke up for the first time. "The instability won't last long enough," she said softly. "The wormhole will collapse several seconds before the nuclear material can reach full detonation." She looked very pale and stricken, and her dark eyes were red and swollen from crying.

A glimmer of an idea occurred to Natasha. "What happens if the wormhole stays in local space-time?"

"I'm not sure," Darcy answered. "The wormhole would be more stable, would last a few seconds longer, I guess."

"What are you thinking? Rip this whole reactor complex out of the ground, and chuck it at the moon?" Maria asked Natasha.

"We can't do that," Jane Foster answered for her, still frantically typing away at the keyboard. "If we create a wormhole where the other end opens in the hard vacuum of space, we'll all get sucked through with it."

"What if we point it downward?" Natasha asked Jane. "Into the earth?"

Jane Foster paused for a moment, and looked up at Natasha incredulously. "You want to _bury_ the complex?"

"We don't have time to get clear," Natasha said grimly. "I'd rather take my chances on a reactor meltdown that takes place several miles underground, than one that takes place on the surface right next to us."

"We can't do that."

"Why not?"

"The dish outside, it provides the directional signal," Jane protested. "The swivels and mounts that position the dish aren't designed to point it anywhere near the ground. That's part of the design."

"There's no angular cutout? You can't override?"

"No, no, it's a physical locking mechanism, probably something in the rotors of the drive assembly," Jane answered. "You'd have to disconnect the dish from its base in order to point it at the ground."

Natasha touched her communicator. "Sam, Wanda, that parabolic dish outside, we need it pointing at the ground, and we need that in the next sixty seconds."

"Oh, is that all?" Sam retorted. "I thought you wanted us to do something difficult!" The static on the radio suggested he was already in a steep dive towards the dish.

"If there are any control cables that connect the dish to this hut, leave those intact. And don't damage the dish itself. But tear out anything that keeps it pointed at the sky. And then look for us by the north perimeter fence. I need you to fly Doctor Foster and Miss Lewis out of here, as far and as fast as you can."

"Natasha, if Sam can carry Jane and Darcy, I can carry you and Maria," Wanda's voice broke in.

Natasha didn't dare let herself feel relieved. Not yet. "Thanks, Wanda. Get to the dish. Hurry."

"Copy that," Wanda replied.

"I still have to program the dish for a manual override," Jane Foster said breathlessly. "Make the signal follow to wherever the antenna is pointing."

"How long will that take?"

Foster didn't answer, she was typing away furiously at the keyboard again. "Yes, I _know_ the command is outside the recommended safety parameters!" She yelled at the screen. "Override! You stupid piece of junk!"

Outside, Sam did a quick inspection loop around the parabolic dish before landing beside Wanda. Although the dish and its base had been assembled in great haste, it was still a massive structure, some fifty meters across, and weighing several thousand kilos at least.

"How the hell are we supposed to move something like _this?"_ Sam groaned in dismay.

Wanda was already focusing her mystical energy on the strut mounts that held the drive assembly in place. The mechanism looked like a gear from some gargantuan wristwatch. A ruby-red glow emanating from Wanda's hands surrounded the closest bar. With a loud grunt of exertion, Wanda pried the first strut bar off the assembly, and with a musical ping, it went sailing off into the darkness.

"We should be able to tip it over," she gasped for breath, "Once I remove all these bars."

She pointed at some heavy chains laying in a heap on the ground nearby. Apparently the chains had been discarded from whatever towing vehicle had been used to secure the dish while en route to its current location.

"Wrap that chain around the antenna," Wanda suggested. "You can pull while I push."

Sam looked up at the slender metal rods in the middle of the dish. They didn't look especially sturdy. "You sure?" he said dubiously. "That's not exactly a load bearing structure up there."

"Doesn't need to be," Wanda panted, prying off another bar. "We just need to tip it over. Gravity will do the rest. Hurry, Sam!"

Sam grabbed the first few links of chain and lugged them into his arms. Each link was an incredibly heavy piece of iron and nickel, slightly larger than his hand. "Oh, damn," he muttered to himself. "This is gonna hurt."

He wrapped a few links around his arms as best he could, and let the bulk of the chains drape over his shoulders. He then set his flight suit thrusters at maximum. He lifted slowly off the ground, but both Sam and his suit were visibly straining against the weight.

"Come on, come on, you can do this," Sam grimaced, not sure if he was talking to himself or the jet pack. "This is nothing. We still have to rescue two civilians after this."

After a few moments, he reached the antenna array in the center of the dish. Grunting with effort, he looped the heavy links around the metal bars as best he could.

"Wanda, you ready?" Sam yelled over his communicator.

"Hang on," Wanda yelled back, and Sam could hear the young woman grunting with exertion over the radio as she forcibly disassembled the dish's structural supports. The dish began to wobble.

"Whoa," Sam yelped in alarm, and fell back a short distance, still hanging onto the chain.

"Okay, Sam, go!" Wanda yelled.

Sam wrapped the chain around both arms, gripping the oversized links in his hands as best he could. He once again set the thrusters at maximum and pulled as hard as he could, yelling at the top of his lungs.

From somewhere below him, Sam could see the bottom of the dish beginning to glow with a soft red light, indicating that Wanda was summoning all the mystical energy at her command to push against the underside of the dish. He didn't even need the radio to hear Wanda screaming with pain and fury. The young woman was clearly pushing herself well beyond any limits she knew. Then, with an almost musical groan, the dish abruptly pitched forward. Sam immediately released the chain and jetted up and away, to keep from being trapped underneath the dish. With an explosive crash, the massive structure shuddered and then keeled over, impacting heavily against the ground.

Sam felt himself on the verge of blacking out, but he couldn't stop now. He still had to get his teammates to safety. He swooped down low, near the base of the collapsed dish.

"Wanda? _Wanda?!"_ he called out urgently.

Wanda waved at him from where she stood on the ground. She was wobbling unsteadily on her feet, but managed to give him a shaky "thumbs up" signal; and a moment later, she used her mystical energy to propel herself back up into the sky. Sam sighed with relief. One of his charges, at least, was safe - for the moment.

They streaked together towards the north perimeter fence. They could see their friends standing nearby, hands in the air. They had abandoned the hut and were awaiting pickup.

"Fifteen seconds!" Natasha yelled as they swooped in.

Sam's foot had hardly touched the ground when he forcibly gathered up Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis, one woman in each arm.

"Sorry about this, ladies," he apologized in advance, and soared off into the sky. Wanda likewise grabbed Natasha and Maria, and though she got them into the air, she barely cleared the fence, and it was obvious she would be unable to carry their combined weight for more than a few meters at most.

Seconds later, there was a blinding flash behind them. The event horizon was opening on the reactor site.

"Go, go, _go!"_ Natasha shrieked at the top of her lungs, but the command was hardly necessary.

The resulting atmospheric disturbance might as well have been a bomb; the suddenly increased air pressure rolled out like a blast wave, knocking everyone out of the sky and slamming them violently against the ground. The surrounding trees swayed, and some snapped, under the intense pressure. Branches went sailing through the air, crashing into other branches and tree trunks. Natasha was too dazed to protect herself as leaves, seed pods, fragments of bark and chunks of pulverized wood rained down on top of her. For several moments, all she could hear was the roaring of the wind and the snapping of trees. Then, suddenly, everything fell silent.

Coughing and gasping for air, Natasha pushed herself upright on one elbow, and practically had to dig herself out from under a fairly impressive layer of debris that covered her. For the moment, there was too much dust in the air to see clearly.

"Wanda? Sam? Maria? Everyone sound off!" She choked into her communicator.

"Still with you," Sam gasped, coughing loudly.

"Checking on Foster and Lewis," came Maria's strained voice. "Looks like they're okay. Just stunned."

"Wanda?" Natasha called out frantically. "Wanda, can you hear me?"

After a moment, the young woman's voice crackled over the radio. "Here," she answered weakly, choking and gasping. "I'm here."

Natasha closed her eyes, offering up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. "Are you okay?"

"Think so," Wanda groaned, and she began coughing violently to expel the dust from her lungs.

Natasha crumpled to the ground, weeping with relief.

A few moments later, Natasha and her friends had gathered together in a small clearing. The dust was still thick in the air, and it was pitch black - no lights could be seen anywhere from the reactor complex. Evidently the wormhole had collapsed, but there wasn't yet any indication of the level of destruction left in its wake. By some miracle, no one had been seriously injured. As Natasha looked around at all the downed tree limbs immediately around them, she could only give thanks once again that they had all somehow been spared. But they still needed to see what was happening at the reactor site.

"Sam?"

"On it."

Sam reached into his gear bag and removed something that looked like an oversized baseball. He tossed it up into the air. The sphere began to hover in mid-air, suspended by its own antigrav system, and emitting a soft but penetrating light over the ground.

"Oh, my God," Maria murmured in awe.

The reactor complex, the cooling towers, the parabolic dish, the Quonset huts, even the perimeter fence - everything was gone. In its place was a shallow, circular crater, perhaps two or three kilometers wide and several meters deep. The crater ran up to the very edge of the forest. Natasha was suddenly, acutely aware of how silent the night was.

"Damn," Sam swore softly, words failing him. "That's just ... damn."

Natasha touched her communicator. "Sandy, can you hear me?"

Sandy's soft voice responded immediately. "I am online, Natasha. I have detected an abnormal spatial-temporal event near your location. Is everyone all right?"

"We're fine," Natasha assured her. "By any chance, do you happen to have an onboard Geiger counter?"

"I do."

"Can you please scan this immediate area for any signs of above-normal radiation. And if you have any way to check for subterranean explosions, please do that too."

"Scanning now." There was a pause of several seconds. "There is some residual radiation in your area, probably left over from the normal output of the nuclear reactor. There is nothing in the danger level," Sandy reported. "If there have been any explosions underground, they have taken place past the limits of my sensors."

"Okay. Thanks." Natasha allowed herself to breathe. "Can you please lock in on my signal, and come pick us up?"

"I'm on my way."

Maria Hill shook her head in amazement. "We did it," she said to no one in particular, still not entirely sure she believed it herself.

Darcy Lewis stared out at the huge crater, her whole body visibly trembling. "This is all my fault," she blubbered.

Jane Foster encircled Darcy's face in her slender hands.

"Darcy. Darcy, look at me," she ordered gently. Darcy did as she was told, huge tears spilling down her dirty cheeks.

"This is _not_ your fault," Jane admonished her. "You understand? You are not responsible for this man's evil. And you do not have to answer for it, not to me, not to anyone. All the harm he caused is on him, and only him. You are not to blame yourself for this. Ever. Okay?"

Darcy nodded tearfully. "Okay."

Jane pulled Darcy close and hugged her tightly, hot tears spilling down her own cheeks. "I love you so much," she murmured softly. "And I just thank God I didn't lose you, too."

The two women huddled together, openly weeping. Wanda looked at them in dismay.

"It's all right," Natasha murmured in Wanda's ear. "They just got out of a hostage situation. Let them process. They'll be fine."

Her adrenaline rush now completely spent, Natasha wearily sat down on the ground at the edge of the crater. Wanda collapsed in a heap beside her. They stared out over the churned-up, barren soil in stupefied awe. The scale of the destruction was almost incomprehensible. _Another ulcer laid in the skin of the Earth, by the stupidity of man,_ Natasha thought bitterly.

"All those people..." Wanda murmured sadly. "They were bad people. But nobody should die like that. Nobody."

"Wanda, don't go there," Natasha warned her. "Don't even think about it. Like Foster said. It's on them."

She looked over at Sam. "So, how did our recruit do today?" she asked.

Sam's exhausted face warmed with a subdued smile, and he nodded solemnly at Wanda. "She did good," he answered, and he wasn't lying.

Wanda snuggled close to Natasha, laid her head against her breast and closed her eyes. Natasha put a protective arm around the younger woman and hugged her tightly. She looked back over at Sam and Maria and smiled. They were, like her, covered in grime and dirt, with a fresh batch of scrapes, scratches, cuts and bruises. They were exhausted and battered. But they were alive, and smiling wearily back at her. Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis had been rescued, and HYDRA's plans had been thwarted. And everyone was going to go home safe. The mission was a success. Natasha hugged Wanda again, more fiercely than before.

"I love you very much, Wanda Maximoff, did you know that?" she murmured softly in the girl's ear.

"Not half as much as I love you," Wanda retorted, almost petulantly.

Natasha grinned in the dim light. _That's my Scarlet Witch,_ she thought to herself.

In the distance, they could hear the soft throbbing pulse of Sandy's engines. She was preparing to land in the clearing a few meters away. Wanda struggled upright, and gave Natasha a plaintive look. "Can we _please_ go home now?"

Natasha laughed softly, more from relief than anything else. "Yes," she murmured, leaving an affectionate kiss on Wanda's dirt-smudged forehead. "We can go home now."

* * *

Three weeks had passed, and true to his word, Nick Fury opened up his home in New York to all his friends and former colleagues, throwing a party to celebrate the success of Natasha and her new team. Jane, Darcy and Erik Selvig had flown in from Geneva not only to attend the festivities, but to once again profusely thank each of their rescuers. Selvig hugged Natasha and Maria in turn, nearly overcome with emotion.

"There's no way I can ever thank you enough, for what you've done," the old man said quietly.

"It was our pleasure, Erik," Natasha assured him. "And thanks for calling us, when you needed help."

"You brought my family back to me," Selvig declared, with great solemnity and utmost sincerity. "I'm forever in your debt."

"You don't owe us anything," Maria promised, and smiled warmly at him. "You look upon Jane and Darcy as your kids, huh?"

"In any way that matters, they _are_ my daughters," he said simply. "They are my life. Thank you." He placed a hand over his heart in a gesture of inexpressible gratitude, then wandered off to find himself another glass of beer.

With a smile, Natasha nudged Maria, and tilted her head, indicating she should look across the room. On the opposite side of the living room, Darcy Lewis was clinging to Sam Wilson like a limpet, and Sam was clearly embarrassed by the display. Jane Foster was standing to one side, pleading for decorum.

"Darcy, please, I think you've let Sam know how grateful you are," she admonished in a low voice.

"Oh, come on, Jane," Darcy protested. "All the guys I know are so... _blobby_. All the guys _you_ know are rock hard. With muscles. Lots and _lots_ of muscles," she sighed happily, pressing her cheek against Sam's chest.

"Yes, well, why don't you use some of _your_ muscles, and go over to the bar and get us another round of drinks?" Jane suggested none-too-subtly.

Darcy understood she was getting close to crossing a line, so she relented, albeit reluctantly. "Okay, okay," she grinned. "I can take a hint. Anyway, thanks for everything, Sam."

"Don't mention it," Sam smiled back.

Jane Foster shook her head sadly as she watched her best friend walk away.

"I'm _so_ sorry about that,"Jane apologized to Sam, almost cringing with embarrassment. "I love Darcy with all my heart. But I do wish she came equipped with more of a filter at times."

Sam chuckled softly. "Nahh, she's cool," he assured her. "Y'all have been through a lot."

"No, actually, Darcy's pretty much like that all the time, even when she's not busy being kidnapped."

"Oh."

"Thank you," Jane said softly, staring up into Sam's face, her eyes shining. "For saving our lives. For... well, for everything, really."

Sam felt utterly humbled at Jane's sincere expression of gratitude. "You're very welcome," he managed to reply.

Shyly, Jane pushed herself up on tiptoe, and left a kiss on Sam's cheek. "See you around, Sam. I'll be sure to tell Thor all about your good deeds, the next time I see him."

Sam nodded solemnly. "I hope you find him soon."

Jane Foster smiled sadly. "So do I."

Over on the long couch, Wanda and Nick Fury were sitting side-by-side, excitedly telling each other jokes and stories, and laughing so hard that actual tears were rolling down their cheeks. Natasha and Maria watched them for a moment, utterly bemused by the strange relationship between the two. Maria considered her almost empty wine glass, and turned to Natasha.

"I need a refill," she suggested, and the two of them retreated to the relative quiet of the kitchen, where all the party liquor had been spread out along the sideboard - but, for the moment at least, the space was empty of any guests.

"Can you believe those two?" Maria shook her head incredulously, as she started looking through the wine bottles on the sideboard for an open bottle.

"I know, right?" Natasha grinned. "Every time I see Nick and Wanda together, they're chirping away like a pair of little old ladies. It's the weirdest thing I've ever seen."

"It's a good weird, though."

"Yeah. It's a good weird." Her expression turned wistful. "I'm so glad they're both still here," she confided in a low voice. "I can't imagine carrying on without either of them. I like to pride myself on my Russian stoicism, but this..." her voice faltered. "Losing one person is bad enough. But losing almost everyone I've ever known..." Natasha had to stop herself. If she said anything more, she would start crying again. And she was so sick of crying.

Maria's wandering hand paused over the tops of the wine bottles. "But this was different," she suggested quietly.

"Yeah," Natasha agreed sadly. "This was different." She sighed heavily, blinking back unwanted tears. "God, I wish Steve was still here."

"I miss Steve," Maria said forthrightly. "I miss his goodness, his decency..." she paused for a moment, silently evaluating the extent of her own losses. "He wasn't just our leader. He was our moral compass."

Natasha allowed herself a somber smile. "Well, Steve had a pretty simple calculus. Do what's right. Sometimes I think his real superpower was always knowing the right thing to do. It's not that easy for me. I get confused sometimes."

"It wasn't always that easy for Steve either, Natasha."

"I know. But he sure made it _look_ easy."

Natasha paused for a moment, wanting to broach the topic of a new team with Maria, and suddenly overcome with an uncharacteristic shyness. "Listen... I want to ask you something," she said haltingly. "Before we left for Geneva, Fury suggested that maybe we should consider putting together a new response team. A permanent team."

"What, a new Avengers team?" Maria raised an eyebrow.

"Or its replacement. Yeah. And I was wondering... if you might be interested in joining."

Maria set her wine glass down on the sideboard and gave Natasha her full attention. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I don't really have a plan yet," Natasha confessed. "But I do know what I _don't_ want. I don't want somebody to follow me around with a clipboard and read intel to me. I need someone who is going to lead the team as much as I do. Someone who pulls just as much weight, and can take charge whenever needed. Someone who has as much responsibility for the team as me. I want a full partner."

"Okay," Maria nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds pretty good so far."

"What you said on the way to Geneva made a lot of sense to me. Maybe we don't have a Thor, or a Hulk, a Captain America or even an Iron Man to stand beside us. But there are still plenty of bad guys out there that need to be stopped. And there should always be someone out there, to protect the innocent, and defend the powerless from the abuses of the powerful." She paused. "Maybe that someone should be us."

Maria cast her eyes downward for a moment, carefully considering her reply. "I killed four men by my own hand on this mission," she said quietly. "Well, four, for certain. Maybe five." She looked up again with a rueful smile. "When I first went to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., I knew there was a good chance I might have to put my life on the line. I also knew there was a good chance that I might have to end someone else's life. Maybe a lot of someones. And the only way I could do that, and still have a clear conscience, was to believe - truly believe - in the rightness of the mission. We did the right thing in Sokovia. God only knows how much damage that HYDRA cell could have caused. It didn't matter if they found a way to reach Thanos or not. They were going to hurt people either way. They had to be stopped." Her somber expression grew even darker. "But I have to count the faces of all my kills when I go to bed at night," she declared sadly. "And I can only sleep well, if I know in my head and my heart that it was the right thing to do."

Natasha nodded sympathetically. "Well, for whatever this is worth, we are not going to be reporting to any government, any corporation, or any other entity," she vowed solemnly. "We're not putting this team together to protect any military, political or financial interests. The only missions we accept are the ones we choose ourselves. And everything that happens after that is entirely on us. Total autonomy. Total responsibility."

Maria mulled that over for a long moment.

"Okay," she answered with a subdued smile. "That works for me. I'm in."

She offered Natasha her hand, and Natasha clasped it warmly.

"Mind you, I still have to sort out all the details," Natasha warned. "I'm kind of semi-unemployed these days myself, so I'm not exactly sure how we're going to pay for all this."

"Maybe I can help with that," said a voice.

Natasha and Maria turned to see Pepper Stark grinning at them.

"Pepper!" Natasha exclaimed joyfully, pulling the woman to her in a close hug. "You made it!"

"Hey, a party at Nick Fury's house? That's a once-in-a-lifetime thing, right? How could I miss it?"

"Is Tony here with you?" Maria asked shyly.

Pepper answered with a sad smile. "He would love this," she admitted. "But - he's not ready yet. Crowds and noise are still a bit much for him. Next time," she promised.

"Absolutely," Maria agreed. "It's good to see you, Pepper."

"I overheard part of your conversation when I came in. Okay. I was kind of spying," Pepper admitted with a rueful smile. "Anyway, Tony was happy to bankroll the original Avengers. And I would be more than happy to continue that tradition for the new team."

"Well, we're not exactly the Avengers any more," Natasha cautioned.

"Wanda has christened us the 'Black Widows'," Maria grinned.

Pepper nodded. "Well, that's kind of a badass name, right? Look. I don't care what you want to call yourselves. And just to be clear, I won't consider you the private army on loan to Stark Enterprises, either. You guys do your own thing. I'll make sure you have whatever you need, and make sure all the bills get paid. And that's up to and including your rent, your groceries and your dry cleaning, if it comes to that."

"Pepper..." Natasha's words faltered as she realized the extent of her friend's generosity. "I don't know how we could possibly thank you."

"You'll be busy saving the world," Pepper said simply. "Making it safe for Tony and me. And Happy. And everyone else. That's more than enough compensation for me." To keep things from getting too somber, she looked down at her hands in mock indignation. "Hey, this is supposed to be a party, right? And there is no glass of wine in my hand. What's wrong with this picture?"

Natasha and Maria both laughed heartily. "That's one problem I think we can fix," Natasha answered.

After finding Pepper a glass of wine, the three women gravitated back towards the living room and the center of the festivities.

"So, how did Sandy work out for you?" Pepper asked Natasha.

Natasha grinned. "She was amazing! I love her! And, ahh, actually, I was kind of hoping we could steal her," she confessed.

Pepper laughed heartily. "She's yours," she declared.

As Pepper began making the rounds greeting everyone, the front doorbell rang.

"Mind getting that?" Nick Fury asked Natasha. "It's for you."

Natasha made a face. "It's your house, boss," she teased him gently.

"That's as maybe," Fury retorted. "Door's still for you."

"Yeah. Whatever." Still grinning, Natasha made her way through the crowded living room to the foyer. When she opened the front door, however, her mouth dropped open in delighted surprise.

 _"Sharon?"_ she exclaimed. "Sharon _Carter?!"_

Sharon Carter stood on the front porch, smiling radiantly at her old friend. "Hello, Natasha. It's been a while."

"Oh, my God, how are you?" Natasha hugged the young blonde woman tightly. "I had no idea Nick invited you to the party!"

"He did, but actually, I'm here to see you," Sharon answered, returning the hug.

"You are?" Natasha was intrigued. "You're a long way from D.C. So what brings you all the way up here to see me?"

Sharon Carter smiled shyly. "Fury says you might be putting together a new response team," she answered.

"Fury says a lot of things," Natasha demurred, but then she gave the young woman an appraising look. "What if I am?"

Sharon was still smiling, but her expression had subtly altered to reflect her steely resolve. "In that case... I want in," she answered simply.

Natasha's face broke out into a wide smile. Fury was notorious for coming up with covert plans and arrangements behind everyone's back. He was a spy, after all. But this was one of his manipulations that Natasha found herself in total agreement with.

"Come inside and meet the Widows," she invited Sharon warmly. "I think we have a lot to talk about."


End file.
